L'Homme Bleu
by Northlight
Summary: Max helps Zack take care of the other X5s. (M/Z, AU)
1. Default Chapter

L'Homme Bleu

_ Title: L'Homme Bleu (1/1)  
Summary: A.U. Max helps Zack deal with some problems.   
Rating: R  
Disclaimer: Cameron and Eglee.  
Date: March 25, April 23-24, 2001._

Liquid silk against her skin as Max sank inch by inch into the heated water filling the tub. A near purr vibrated in the back of her throat as she settled back. Flesh was smooth and moist where water advanced and retreated with her every deeply-drawn breath. The bathroom was veiled with steam, blunting fading paint, cracking floor tiles and the sense of decay that clung to the room in harsher lighting. Max's tongue swept across her lower lip, catching the taste of vanilla air. Running water created ripples in the bubble-filled tub. The water blotted out the sounds beyond this place and time. 

A lazy movement, and one of Max's legs rose from the water. Painted toes rested against metal taps. An arc of slender feet and she nudged the taps so that the water stilled, several rebellious droplets rolling free, hovering momentarily at the tap before falling towards the waiting pool. Max had wound her dark hair atop her head. A gold clip was sunk into the amassed hair, loosely holding curling strands in place. She sank, gliding across the bottom of the tub, smoothed by water and generous amounts of bath oils. Water tickled at the back of her neck, trembled against the barcode imprinted against the heated flesh there. She breathed, thoughts following the intake and release of air, smooth and calm. 

Space and time regained meaning at the sound of footsteps beyond her closed bathroom door. A brush of cold air as the door opened. Dark lashes parted, vision attesting to what other senses had already discovered. Water ran from her slim arm as it lifted from the water in order to drape over the edge of the bath. Long nails, smoothed glossed ovals, pointed in his direction. Her hand turned, palm upwards, and her index finger curled in towards her. "Close the door," she murmured. 

Zack stepped into the bathroom, door shutting at his back. Her lips curled into a pleased smile when he complied. She did so enjoy when he listened to her without disagreement or a frosty glare that eloquently spoke of his displeasure. He ghosted across the room, covering the distance between them in a few silent steps. His eyes held hers as he lowered, kneeling on the dark blue bath mat lay out next to the bath. His fingers relearned the shape and texture of her face: the dark curving slash of her eyebrows, soft flesh over her cheekbones, the line of her jaw. Fingers hovered against her lips. Playful, Max's tongue darted out, a quick flicker against the pad of his fingers. She smiled as Zack jumped slightly. 

His forehead rested against hers. "Max," he sighed, long and low and containing a quiver only Max had ever sought and found. Zack's hand cupped the base of Max's skull, fingers biting into her slightly. Held her head as his mouth caught at hers, tightly reigned emotions screaming loose through teeth and tongue and lips. He drew at her, rough with urgency and Max rose upwards with the pull of his hands. Zack's arms wound about Max, lifting her up over the bathtub. Her wet body fell against him, arms flying about his neck. "Max," he groaned, her name a plea repeated again and again until it ceased to be separate units and blurred into a single cry. 

They turned as Zack moved, Max's legs shifting to wrap around him. The wall was wet with clinging mist against her bare back. Zack was shaking against her, the cry that had been her name transforming once again, a scream twisting and choking in his throat. Max's hands rested open palmed against Zack's cheek, felt the muscle in his jaw jump as he struggled to maintain the man he thought it necessary to be. He came back to her wounded, sore with loss and weary with fear and responsibility. Zack would not tell her where the others were, rarely spoke of what he found when he visited them. Max didn't need the details. She could feel the broad strokes of his experiences in Zack's body, his voice, his eyes. 

Delicate touch, her hands cupped around his face. She met his eyes and smiled -- her own expression not devoid of sadness -- before she brought her lips to his. Her tongue swept through his mouth, tasted misery and blood and the medication that kept them all from shaking and shattering to pieces. Salt against his skin, the memory of tears he never shed. "Zack," she whispered, his name cracking against her lips. 

Hands skimmed against her body, tracing familiar routes. Her head fell back, lips at her throat as rough fingertips dragged across the curve of her hip, down her thighs. Pulled hard enough that cloth tore halfway up Zack's arms. Weak, suddenly, and they were sliding downwards, meeting the floor, a sightless sprawl across the tiles. She fumbled at his belt, nipping at his neck and shoulders and chest. 

Vanilla air and sex. The sound of trembling water against the slopped sides of the bath, steady drip of new droplets falling to drown amongst their fellows. Flesh and flesh. Couldn't loose herself to unrestrained sound, arched and bit her lip hard. The whispered scream of her name as Zack moved against her. 

Shaking, he held her pressed into the floor, his head resting in the curve of her neck and shoulder. Her hand drifted through his hair as Zack listened to the blood pounding through her. "_Max_..." 

"'S okay, Zack." 

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he whispered. His breath was drawn in sharply, released in a quick puff of air. He was choking on his own breath, attempting to force tears into stillness. His chest rose and fell in a nearly violent motion. Zack's fingers tightened against the smooth expanse of Max's thigh. His grip loosened, a quick release as Zack forced himself back into the form he thought necessary to fit himself to. The muscles in his arms bunched as Zack pushed himself off of Max. She took his proffered hand and let him pull her upwards. 

Max had left her robe hanging on the back of the bathroom's door. She slid it around her shoulders, the soft material shifting against her skin. Max tugged the sash closed, knotting it with a deft twist of her fingers. "C'mon," she commanded, glancing at Zack over her shoulder. His head was bent, shadowed eyes fixed on his hands. He started slightly when Max sighed and opened the door, letting a cool wave of air drift into the misted room. "Zack," Max called out to him, her voice softening. 

"Give me a minute," Zack responded. He smiled, tight and pained, in an attempt at reassurance. Max hesitated for a moment before nodding. 

Max was sitting at the small, round table in kitchen when Zack emerged from the bathroom. Max's bare feet were resting on the seat of the table's second chair. They slid off when Zack approached, and Max pushed out the chair with her feet in silent invitation. Zack sat down across from her, accepting the cup of coffee and plate of toast Max pushed across the table. She could see stubble at his chin and along his jaw, remembered the feel of it against her flesh. His face was thin, tight and sunken with tension and the recent memories of hard times. They could survive on the bare essentials for relatively long periods of time. Things must have been rough to have left such a visible physical impact upon Zack. 

She took a cautious sip of her coffee, watching Zack openly as he worked his way through the plateful of toast. Max cast a glance in the direction of her counter where the bag of bread lay. It was running towards empty. Max stood up, untying the bag. She drew out the last two slices and dropped them into the toaster, checking to make sure that the toaster was on the appropriate setting before settling back down. Zack flashed her a quick smile before turning his attention back to his hands, laid flat against the scarred tabletop. "You want to talk about it?" Max offered, not holding much hope as to a positive reply. 

"Tosh," Zack said, naming one of their fellow X5s. His eyes drifted shut and Zack fell back in his chair, hands sliding off the table to lay limp against his thighs. 

Unease curled through Max. The sound of her brother's name sent Max tumbling back into the past, standing stiff in a memory-blue world. A small pointed face came into view as Tosh lifted his shaved head. He looked at her with wide brown eyes too large for his face. The sudden flash of a smile, brilliant in the darkness of his skin. His lips moved in a silent challenge: race you! and they were flying forward, feet moving so quickly they barely brushed against the ground. The toast popped behind her, making Max jump in surprise. Her memory cracked, fell aside as her current reality reasserted itself. Max twisted in her chair, reaching for the toast. "What happened?" she asked as she deposited the last two slices onto Zack's crumb-filled plate. 

Zack's eyes opened, meeting Max's worried gaze. "He's gone, Max," Zack answered, his voice rough with emotion. "I couldn't help him. He needed my help and there wasn't anything I could do." Zack rubbed at his face, a slow drag of his open-palmed hand from his forehead towards his chin. Max saw the movement coming. She didn't flinch as Zack surged upwards, flinging the plate before him against the wall at the other end of the kitchen. It shattered, and Max ducked the small shards that came flinging back in her direction. Zack didn't move. He stood stiff, his hands clenched at his side so tightly that his knuckles went white. "I hate this!" he growled, fist hurtling towards the kitchen table. 

Max caught Zack's wrist. "I know. Destroying my kitchen and setting me back several paychecks isn't going to make things better," Max said, swallowing back her own sorrow. 'Take care of him for us, would you?' she thought, casting her words heavenwards despite her lack of definite belief in higher powers. 

"You don't understand," Zack snarled, shaking Max's hands off of him. He stepped away from her, running a hand through his hair, a jerky, frustrated motion. 

"I understand the frustration at not being able to help someone you care for. I know what its like being too little, too late. I've failed people who have depended upon me. I've lost people I love." Max's patience shattered, mingled anger and accusation filling her voice, "maybe if you'd let me help you, let all of us help each other--" Zack's expression made Max falter in her tirade before it could fully blossom. 

"Maybe you're right," Zack said, his voice sharp and raw. "Tosh is dead because of me and my pride. I've admitted it. Is that what you wanted to hear?" 

"No," Max breathed. "I didn't mean that," she began. 

Zack turned a hard-eyed stare towards her. "Spare me the lies, Max. We both know precisely what you meant." Zack hooked his thumbs through the belt-loops of his jeans, stilling his hands before they could curl into angry fists once more. There was more open anguish in his voice than Max had ever heard from him when Zack spoke again. "You are right. You are." Zack swallowed hard and broke eye contact. 

He moved towards the shattered remains of the plate he had thrown, his back towards her as he swept the larger fragments into his hands. Max silently went to get her broom and dustpan. They swept up the plate, depositing the debris in the half-full garbage bag beneath the sink. 

"I should leave," Zack stated. 

"You shouldn't be alone right now," Max said, laying a cautious hand on Zack's tensed arm. "I don't want to be alone tonight. Stay with me? Please." 

Zack hesitated, considering her from the distance that had sprung up between them. Finally, he tilted his head in a slight nod. His lips moved silently: thank you. "I will." 

...~*~... 

Max had led Zack towards her bedroom. He had silently stripped, neatly folding his clothing and placing them on the closed top of Max's hamper. He always lay on his back, hands folded on his stomach. Max knew that should she climb into bed beside him during the night, Zack would turn onto his side and curl about her. Zack slept only due to necessity. She knew that he hated being unaware of his surroundings and not being in complete control of his body and its actions. If his pride suffered at being watched over while he was forced to rest, Zack didn't speak of his feelings. He had fallen to sleep quickly, the desperate reach for sleep of those who knew that they might be forced to go without for long periods of time. 

"Oh, Zack," Max murmured, running her fingertips lightly across his cheek. Zack managed to look hard and worn even in sleep. Max brushed a kiss against his forehead before straightening. Zack's hand had fallen away from his stomach. It lay twisted on the sheets, fingers digging into the material and clawing into the mattress. His throat worked, head tilting back slightly as he worked through his dreams. Max pulled the bedroom door closed behind her. 

Max made a quick tour of her kitchen. Her food supply had dwindled more than she had realized during the past week. Zack's body would heal itself as he slept. He would wake hungrier than he was when he arrived at her home. Max headed towards the living room, lifting her wallet off the end table where she had dropped it when she came home earlier that day. She grimaced as she flipped through the meager amount of bills before shrugging. Genetically engineered super-soldiers or not, they had to eat. She had taken her clothing from the bedroom before she had left Zack to his sleep. Max shrugged off her fuzzy white bathrobe, sliding into her street clothes. 

He was still sleeping when Max returned an hour later. She settled two bulging white plastic bags on the tabletop, drawing out the food within them and situating them in their proper places within her kitchen. Max stopped, a jar of peanut butter in hand, and fell back into the chair behind her. Her head fell forward, face hidden behind her arms as she drew them about her head. "Tosh," Max whispered around her tears. She'd last seen him slowing behind her, blood against his upper arm where a bullet had grazed him. She had turned her eyes forward, concentrating on her objective. Reach the fence. Escape. Freedom. She hadn't thought that Tosh had escaped until Zack had mentioned him in passing some few years earlier. Gone now, and she had never been given the chance to know the man he had become beyond Manticore. 

Zack woke late the next afternoon. He had found the clothing Max had set aside for him, remainders of his past visits. He had taken a quick shower before joining Max in the kitchen, and his hair was still laying in damp strands against his forehead. He trailed the faintest hint of vanilla behind him and Max smothered a grin behind her hand. Bacon was sizzling on the stove. Zack dumped a few pieces on the bread he pulled out from the bag and tore free some lettuce. Not bothering with a plate, Zack, breakfast in hand, sat down at the table with Max. Zack chased back his first bite with a sip of orange juice before speaking. "I've been thinking," he began. 

Max's eyebrow quirked. "Have you really?" 

"Do you want to hear what I've decided or not?" Zack asked, waiting for Max's long sigh and nod. "You were right last night, Max. I can't take care of this by myself," the words were slow, forced past years worth of belief that he alone should protect the escaped X5s. Max leaned forward, hands clasped before her on the table, eyes widening slightly in anticipation. "If you're willing to give this up," he said, waving about Max's apartment, "I'll take you with me on my rounds." 

"I guess sleeping with the commander has some benefits," Max grinned, nodding her head enthusiastically. 

Zack glowered at her. "This is serious, Max," he stated in his best commander's voice. 

Max's grin slid away. "I know, Zack. Believe me, I know." 

"I don't think you do," Zack said. "The situation has changed. Lydecker has brought the others out. Jace was there, Max." Anger and worry warred for dominance upon Zack's face as he looked at her. "It's been hard keeping the others out of Lydecker's clutches in the past. If he's using X5s now..." Zack's voice trailed off. 

Max reached across the table, gripped Zack's hand over the scattered pieces of the newspaper. "I'm coming with you, Zack. I'll help you take care of things." She squeezed his hand a final time before letting go. Max popped her last piece of overly crisp bacon into her mouth before rising. She absently wiped her hands against her thighs. "Well come on, Zack. When are we heading out?" she inquired, a smile making its way to her lips once more. She would worry about Lydecker and Manticore's X5s later. Right now, all she cared to think about was seeing her family. 

"Eager," Zack commented. 

"Don't you know it," Max responded. "You finish off," she told him, glancing at the half-eaten sandwich Zack held. "I'll pack up and make a few phone calls. We can be out of here within the hour." Max slipped around to Zack's side of the table, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. "Thank you," she murmured. 

Zack shook his head, watching Max's retreating back. He thought of what he had seen, what he had done as he fought for the freedom of his family. "Don't thank me yet," Zack muttered. 

...~*~... 


	2. Pt. 2 (added 5/5/01)

Untitled

_ Part 2.  
April 28-29, May 2, 2001._

Max had left her motorcycle with Cricket, a chipper redhead she had begun to think of as a friend. The other young woman had solemnly accepted responsibility for Max's motorcycle, staring at Max owlishly from behind her wire-rimmed glasses. Max's face had been pained when she bounded down the steps of the apartment complex two at a time. Zack leaned across the passenger seat of the car he had acquired, opening the door for Max. She slid into the seat next to him, flopping back with a long sigh. 

"I'm going to miss her," Max said, pulling the seatbelt across her chest, snapping it into place. She rested her elbow on the open-window, hand curling against her neck. 

"Cricket?" Zack inquired, pulling out of his spot. He had come across a pair of dark-lensed sunglasses somewhere, protecting his sensitive eyes against the sharp brightness spilling out through the city's streets. Behind the wheel of the car, sunglasses in place, leather coat undone around him, Zack looked surprisingly normal. 

Max abandoned her musings as to what Zack would have been like without Manticore haunting his every action and thought. "Nah, not Cricket. My motorcycle," Max answered, her voice longingly caressing the final word. "Me an' my baby have been through a lot together." 

"It was--" Zack began, still focused on the road before them. He turned, merging into the heavier traffic beyond the immediate boundaries of Max's former neighbourhood. 

"I know," Max said, waving away Zack's response. "Necessity's a bitch, is all." Max leaned forward, slim fingers flicking at the car's radio. She shifted through several stations, eyes narrowed as she silently critiqued the merits of each in the span of seconds. She was about to move on when Zack's voice stopped her. 

"Leave it there," he said, casting a quick glance in her direction. 

Max arched an eyebrow. "You like this kinda stuff?" she asked, not attempting to hide her surprised amusement. "What layers you have, Zack!" 

". . .you got me on my knees. Layla, I'm begging you darling please. Layla, darling, won't you ease my worried mind?" Zack sang along with the radio, only slightly off-key. The corner of Zack's lips twitched upwards, softening his face. "The story of our relationship," he commented. Max snorted and Zack's slight smile blossomed into a full-fledged grin. "I had a friend who was wild about this type of music. Classics, she called them--had one cd or another running near non-stop." 

They knew how to read each other well. Long association and the hyped-up senses bred into them made spotting and interpreting physical reactions easier than would have otherwise been the case. She could read fondness into Zack's voice when he spoke of his old friend. Zack had rarely spoken of his life during the three years before he had found her, nor did he make much mention of what he did while not with her or the others. In truth, Max has suspected that Zack had no life beyond the X5s. "A good friend?" Max inquired. 

"Good enough," Zack replied easily. 

Max lay a dramatic hand against her heart, her voice mock-outraged. "And I thought I was the only one," she gasped. 

He knew that she was joking, but Zack answered her seriously. "You are, Max." His tone lightened, quickly brushing over the seriousness he had let slip into their conversation. "At the time, though, you were busy with..." Zack pursed his lips, exaggerated consideration, "Danny? John? Peter?" 

"Enough! Enough!" Max protested, holding out her hand, open palm towards him. "I get the idea." She looked at Zack from beneath lowered lashes, idly twirling a lock of hair about her finger. "What was she like? This woman you risked becoming. . . friends with?" She had thought paranoia would have left Zack isolated, removed from the people about him. She would never had believed that he would become attached to a regular bed partner. 'The things we learn,' Max thought. 

"Pretty," Zack said. 

"Of course," Max said wryly. 

Zack shot her a glance, eyes hidden behind the dark lenses he wore. "Smart. Funny." He paused, struggling to put the woman's character into words, neatly categorized. "There aren't words to describe her. She was the first non-X5 I ever felt at ease with." 

"You?" Max said incredulously. "At ease?" 

"Something close enough to it, then." 

"So what happened?" Max prodded when Zack lapsed into silence, thoughts held to himself for a long stretch of minutes. The song which had begun their current conversation had ended, a new song filling with car with the sound of wailing guitars and a man's climbing voice. 

Zack shrugged, once again focused on the road as they neared a border crossing. "I'd been there too long. I was starting to feel. . . comfortable. I picked up and moved on." Zack eased down on the brakes. He slid his sunglasses off, hooking them on the neck of his t-shirt. He picked up his wallet, laying in the space between their seats, flipping through it as he searched through their papers. 

Max sank lower down in her seat, arms crossed over her stomach. "The world would be a whole lot easier without those creeps," she muttered below the range of human hearing, glancing in the direction of the uniformed pair at the post before them. 

"The world has never been easy," Zack commented. "And you'd get bored without the frustrations." 

"I'd be willing to give boredom a try," Max sighed. 

They sat in silence as the approached the guards. The older of the pair thrust out a gloved hand, demanding to see their papers. Zack passed them out, sitting still with his hands lightly resting on the steering wheel as the other man flipped through their identification. He was tensed, unnoticeable to any who didn't know him well, always fearful that they should somehow be discovered. The papers were finally handed back to Zack through the open window. He waited for the guard's cut nod before moving through the gates. Zack kept glancing back in the rearview mirror until the station slid out of sight. 

"So, how do we play this?" Max asked, her voice a sudden explosion of sound into the silence. She flicked the radio back on. 

"I make the rounds, stopping in to see each of them a few times a year. I visit them in order of geographical proximity, except in the case of emergencies." He paused, drawing his sunglasses back into place. "I think you may be surprised by some of the things you find when we stop in to see some of our family." Zack's voice was slow, cautious when he continued. "Most of them are well-adjusted. Others. . . Dee and Ben, mostly--they're difficult." 

Max silently assimilated that information. She licked her lips, straightening once again in her seat. "Difficult how?" Max inquired, pushing back a wave of unease. She had worried about her family's physical safety, but Max had for the most part pictured them leading lives much like her own. Max had been unwilling to contemplate the possibility that any of her siblings had been adversely affected by their rush towards freedom. 

"Neither of them has adjusted as well as could have been hoped," Zack finally responded. "Dee is wild, thoughtless, over-emotional, prone to mood swings and violence. Ben is still trying to complete a mission long since over." Zack shrugged, but looking at his profile, Max could see the faintest traces of sorrow settled into his expression. "You'll see for yourself soon enough." 

"Who are we seeing first?" Max asked. 

"Dee," Zack answered shortly. 

"Ah, tossing me right into the deep end, are you?" Max said, keeping her voice light. Zack made no move to answer. Max sighed, leaning her head back. She turned her head to the side, watching buildings and people flicker by them as they drove further away from the last in a long line of lives Max had given up. 

...~*~... 

Dee was living surprisingly close to Max's old home. They reached her within a week after leaving Max's. Max's curled hands rested in the deep pockets of her jacket. It took a conscious effort to keep from shifting nervously from foot to foot. She was excited at the thought of seeing her sister again, but Zack's words, both when he had first spoken of Dee and his warning before they had exited the car, had served to taint her anticipation with unease. "Be careful with her," Zack had cautioned before they had started up the steps to Dee's apartment. 

Zack rapped at the door with his knuckles, waiting a moment before he rattled at the doorknob. He nudged the door open, slipping into the apartment, Max close behind him. The music that they'd been able to hear from the other side of the door was worse inside the apartment. Max looked around curiously as Zack sought out the radio, turning down the volume to a more moderate level. The living room was a mess, Max noted with some disapproval. She hadn't shaken off the neatness that Manticore had insisted upon. Dee obviously had cast aside that bit of training. 

"Bedroom," Zack gestured to Max's nod. She had heard the sounds emerging from that direction. The two X5s cautiously made their way towards the half-open bedroom door. Max peered around Zack, catching sight of bouncing blue curls and the pale expanse of Dee's bare back. There was a startled yelp as Dee turned away from her closet, finally seeing Zack. Dee squealed, racing forward on bare feet. Max took a step back as Dee's arms flung out past Zack's neck before curling inwards, catching him in a hug. She could hear the sound of kisses being pressed to Zack's cheeks. 

"Dee," Zack said. "Dee!" He turned around awkwardly, the young woman still clinging to his neck. He gently disentangled himself, nudging Dee so that she turned to face Max. 

Dee's blue eyes narrowed as she considered the other woman. They went wide with recognition a moment later. "Max?" she gasped. She flung herself forward, slim arms chokingly tight around Max's neck. Dee rubbed her cheek against Max's, an old greeting. "You smell like each other," Dee said sharply, releasing Max to turn back towards Zack. "You'll sleep with her but not me?" Dee wailed, lower lip pushed out into a pout. "Aren't I as pretty as her?" 

A muscle in Zack's jaw twitched. "_Dee_," he warned. He met Max's eyes above Dee's head. 'You see what I meant?' Zack's expression demanded. He sidestepped Dee's question with a firm question of his own. "How did we manage to catch you off guard? You should have realized we were here." 

Dee's hand flicked dismissively, purple nail-polish sparkling. "Worry, worry, worry!" she said. "It was you, I didn't need to worry." 

"What if it weren't us?" Zack said, his voice calm by pure force of will. 

"It was, so what's the big deal?" Dee replied calmly, teary-eyed accusation forgotten. She bounded around Zack, back into her bedroom. They could hear the clatter of hangers as Dee shifted through her closet. "Maxie?" Dee called out. "I need a woman's opinion." She was holding two shirts before her when Max entered the room. "Zack's always such a lump," Dee confided with a despairing sigh. "The red?" Dee continued, with barely a breath between comment and question. She held out a skimpy red halter top. "Or the black?" Dee motioned towards a gauzy black blouse. 

Max considered each thoughtfully. "The--" 

"Black, right. You're a genius, Maxie, really," Dee gushed, tossing the red top onto the bed. She slid the black off its hanger, letting the hanger fall to the floor. Dee pulled on the shirt, buttoning it with a quick flicker of her fingers, pulling the material closed over her lacy bra. She lifted her hair, fluffing it with spread fingers before letting it fall over her shoulders. She smoothed her hands over her leather pants, rising to the toes of her high-heeled boots as she twirled. "How'd I look?" 

"Fine," Max answered shortly, desperately wondering what had happened to the Dee she had known. This girl was flightier than Max's last roommate had been. Even having known her, Max was having difficulty believing that Dee had received any military training. 

Zack was leaning against the door-frame, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were narrowed. "What are you up to, Dee?" he asked quietly. 

"Up to?" Dee echoed, batting her eyelashes. "Why are you always so suspicious? Must you always think the worst of me?" she asked, her voice rising dramatically with each word. Her chest was heaving, eyes once again filled with tears when she concluded. 

Max thought Zack would have rolled his eyes had such an action not been a less than leader-like reply. "Enough with the dramatics. Answer the question." Max was surprised by the relative easiness with which Dee was getting off. Had she herself dared such foolishness, Zack would have cut her down with scornful words that hadn't dulled in their power despite years free from Manticore. 

"Same ol'," Dee answered. She moved to her closet, squatting as the reached for something on the floor, hidden behind dozens of tumbled shoes. Dee pulled a gun case out, setting on the bed beside her discarded shirt. She flipped the top open, eyes reverent as she pulled out the weapon. "She's a beauty, isn't she?" Dee breathed. 

Max fought back a shudder at the sight of the gun. "What are you doing, Dee?" she asked. 

"_You_ don't get to ask me questions, you get me?" Dee snarled, waving the unloaded gun in Max's direction. Wide-eyed, she turned to Zack. "She doesn't, does she?" Dee asked, snarl fading away to be replaced by a soft little-girl's voice. 

"Answer the question," Zack demanded. 

Dee sighed, casting an apologetic glance in Max's direction. "Sorry. No hard feelings?" she shot towards Max before moving her attention back to Zack. "I'm gonna shoot someone," Dee said simply. "Wanna come?" 

Zack's face went utterly still. He pushed away from the door, moving towards Dee with measured steps. She was staring up at him, wide eyed, painted lips parted, when Zack gripped her shoulders. "Tell me," Zack growled, fingers curling into the soft flesh of Dee's shoulders. 

Dee licked her lips, still looking up at Zack. "Jeff," she said, as if the name explained everything. Zack didn't release her. Dee sighed before continuing. "He saw my barcode, somehow," Dee paused, eyes distant, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her painted lips. "Anyway, the next thing I knew, he was back at my door demanding the use of my specialized talents or he said he'd turn me in." 

"How did he know what your barcode signifies?" Max inquired. She had moved around from behind Zack's back so that she had a view of both the X5s. Zack looked tense with anger and frustration. Max no longer knew Dee as well as she once had--especially considering the immense changes which had taken place within her sister. Nonetheless, Max would have been willing to state that Dee didn't appear unduly upset by her current position. 

Dee cast Max a quick look, winking before she shifted in Zack's grip, making her CO clamp down harder on her shoulders. "He's the son of some military bigwig," Dee answered. 

Zack released her so suddenly that Dee fell back a step, collapsing back onto her bed. "What the hell were you thinking?" he gnashed, hands fisted at his sides. 

She was sitting at the foot of her bed, hands folded one atop the other between her spread knees. "I was thinking that he looked wonderfully fuckable," Dee shrugged. "Can't say I was thinking much beyond that at the time." Her voice turned accusing suddenly, "you know, I wouldn't be in this situation if you'd just loosen up and have a bit of fun with me." 

Max and Zack both ignored her. "I'll take care of this," Zack sighed without much heat. He sounded resigned, well-used to bailing the woman out of difficult situations. Zack had moved towards Max, resting his hands on her hips. His fingers curled in towards her back, tapping out a silent message out of Dee's sight. 'Stay here. Keep an eye on her,' his moving fingers commanded. 

Max looked into Zack's tight face, seeing something that disturbed her. She swallowed, nodding slowly. 

Zack released her, turned back towards Dee. "Tell me everything." 

Dee grinned. "I knew I could count on you, brother mine." 


	3. Pt. 3 (added 5/5/01)

Untitled

_ Part 3  
May 4-5_

Dee had not forgotten how to pack quickly. Five minutes after Zack had left the two women behind, Dee's bag was packed and situated next to the front door. The two women were seated on Dee's threadbare couch, swept clear of the various items of clothing which had been draped across the back and arms. Max was sitting on the end of the couch closest to the door, idly dragging her short nails across the thinning material stretched across the arm of the couch. Feeling a shift in the cushions, Max looked up to see Dee crawling across the distance between them. 

Max sat still, allowing the touch as Dee's tongue flicked out, dragging across Max's lips. Dee drew back, her face filling the entirety of Max's field of vision. The sparkles painted across Dee's pale cheeks were clearly visible, shinning blue and gold. She titled her head, tight blue curls tumbling over one slight shoulder to hang before her. "So, you and Zack, huh?" Dee said, all sharp edges beneath her breathy inquiry. 

"Yeah," Max answered shortly. She would have asked what business it was of Dee's, but the other woman's actions thus far had made the reasons for her interests plain. Super-imposed over Dee's painted face, Max briefly saw the image of the girl she had been. She remembered a small girl, seemingly delicate, with huge eyes. Dee had been still and quiet, her voice soft and hesitant even when alone with her family. Max had imagined her sister in a home filled with books, pastel colours and easy neatness. 'That's one illusion that has been rather painfully shattered,' Max thought sourly. 

Dee's legs were curled beneath her. She draped her arm around Max's shoulders, head resting against Max's. "That's really, really. . . neat," Dee commented. "How'd that happen, you and Zack?" 

Max shrugged, making Dee's arm shift around her shoulders. "It just did." 

"Gotcha," Dee said. She drew back, arm sliding free from Max. Dee turned so that she faced her sister full on. Her face had been twisted into an overly concerned mask when Max faced her in answer to the silent prompting. "I hope you don't mind," Dee began, watching Max from beneath lowered lashes. "About me and Zack, you know. It was ages ago. Practically forgotten," Dee said, waving one hand rather vaguely. 

Max's eyebrow climbed upwards and she bit back an amused trickle of laughter. "Can't say I've spent my nights awake worrying about who Zack's screwed around with before we hooked up," she answered easily. "Figure I have more checks in the 'exes' category than he does, anyway." 

Dee nodded solemnly, but continued as if she hadn't paid much note as to what the other woman had said. "It was a few years ago--riding the wave, high point of my cycle an' all--you know how it goes, yeah? Didn't quite make it all the way to the end together, me and Zack--think I kinda freaked him out a bit." Dee cast a glance in Max's direction, lips curving into a grin. "Too bad, you know. I think he'd do a wicked wild if he just let himself go." Dee paused, licked her lips, waiting for a response. When none came, she continued, her voice sharpening. "Manticore really screwed us over, don't you think?" 

"I've had occasion to think that myself a time or two," Max acknowledged. 

"You ever really think about what we are, Maxie. I mean _really_?" Dee questioned, continuing before Max could formulate a reply. "Animal instincts. The discipline of soldiers. Tons of conflict right there--wonder how they deal when heat hits our sisters back at base," Dee giggled, high and unpleasant. "And toss all that potential conflict into the world out here, where neither the animal nor the soldier fit. . . well, it ain't pretty, is it, sis?" 

"It's hard," Max said cautiously. "But you gotta deal. That's what we do, Dee--we adapt. We wouldn't still be free if we couldn't change and learn to fit into the world." 

Dee leaned back into the cushions, one arm resting against the back of the couch. She fit her cheek against her palm, studying Max through slitted eyes. "You think you fit into the world, Max?" she asked, soft and amused. "Zack turned tail and ran that night 'cause I started to shake him out of the soldier and into the animal," Dee clicked her teeth. Her lips peeled back and she swept her tongue across their pointed tips. "He doesn't fit out here. I don't fit out here." 

"I manage fine," Max interrupted before Dee could delve into what she thought to be Max's difficulties. She dipped her head slightly, casting a subtle glance in the direction of her watch. The minute hand dragged with infinite slowness across the white face, ticking away another brief moment. 

"Worried about him?" Dee inquired, having caught Max's glance. Dee was smiling again, and Max recalled that her sister had always had an excellent grasp of time--she'd been able to mark off minutes without the use of any device. Dee's hand rose off the back of the couch, drifting towards Max. Her nails scrapped lighly against Max's neck as her hand settled against Max's shoulder. "Don't," Dee said. "Zack has done this kinda stuff for me dozens of times. He takes care of me, just like he promised. Such a _good_ boy, don't you think, Maxie, dear?" 

Tired of the other X5's games, Max's response was sharp. "Still can't take care of yourself, Dee, hon?" 

Dee's blue eyes went wide with surprise before narrowing. Her smile had twisted into a snarl, delicate face suddenly savage. Her fingers were twitching, tightening against Max's shoulders, nails digging into Max's skin. They were moving together, a sudden explosion of violence into the strained attempt at normalcy. Max's hands locked around Dee, and with a quick jerk she sent her younger sister flying. The rickety coffee table shattered as Dee knocked against it with great force before sliding across the floor. Dee sprung back to her feet, hands fisted before her. 

"You don't know anything about me, you smug, self-important bitch!" Dee shrieked, cheeks flushed with anger. 

They were circling, warily eyeing each other as they picked their way around the remains of the coffee table. "Can't say I want to, either," Max shot back. "What the hell happened to you, Dee?" Zack's image rose in her mind, sorrow etched into his face as he spoke of Dee and Ben--she hadn't wanted to know this, she hadn't wanted to see her sister broken in mind and spirit by a world that was supposed to allow them to be whole and free. 

Dee was flowing forward, and for all her problems and shifts in her personality, she had not forgotten her training. They met in the center of Dee's living room, movements tight and close in the confines of the room. Blow to blow, blocking, duck and swing, strike and leap--both women fell back instinctively into the patterns drilled into them in Manticore. It had been years since Max had physically fought someone with the same strength and training as she herself possessed. She had nearly forgotten the immense difference between fighting someone of equal skill and a non-X5. Finally seeing an opening, Max lashed out, her hand connecting with the underside of Dee's chin. The other woman's head rocked back and she flew backwards, back slamming against the wall behind her. 

"I hate you," Dee grunted, one hand resting against her face. "You bitch, you bitch, you fucking stupid _bitch_," Dee ground out as she slid down the wall. Her legs looked awkward and uncomfortable, bent close against her body. Her legs slowly straightened, booted high-heel clad feet sliding outwards until her legs rested flat on the ground before her. Dee's head rolled back until the crown of her head was resting against the wall. Her eyes closed, lashes dark against her cheeks. Her painted lips quivered before Dee pressed them together, holding them in a thin line. 

"Dee--" Max began. 

"Just shut up, Max. There's nothing I want or need to hear from you right now. Just leave me alone." 

At a loss--she'd never been comfortable with displays of emotions such as this--Max turned away from her sister. Unable to bear remaining in the same room as Dee, Max moved towards the kitchen. The door to the fridge squealed as Max pulled it open, absently scanning the contents within it. She pulled out a beer, nudging the fridge door closed with the toe of her scruffed boots. Max pulled out a chair, hooking her feet around its legs. She flicked off the cap of her beer, running her thumb around the top of the bottle before she sighed and raised the beer to her lips. Not for the first time, Max momentarily wished that it was possible for alcohol to actually have some effect on her. She wouldn't have minded some help in forgetting what had just transpired. 

Both women were still in their separate rooms when Zack returned. He had seen Dee first. Max could hear the rise and fall of their voices, purposely soft. She drew her hands towards her head, pressing her hands against her ears, in no mood to listen to whatever the other two X5s were saying. She could feel Zack when he stopped in the doorway, felt his eyes against her. Max sighed and took her hands away from her ears, laying them against the table-top. She lifted her head, meeting Zack's eyes. She had expected to find anger or disappointment in Zack's expression--her fight with Dee had been less than professional and had accomplished nothing, may very well have gotten them in trouble had the situation unraveled differently. 

"Come on, Max," Zack said, his voice soft. She thought she saw sympathy in his eyes. 'Don't thank me yet,' Max could recall him saying when she had agreed to come with him. She wondered whether he regretted asking her to help him with their family. "It's time to go," Zack continued, holding his hand out for her. She took his proffered hand, letting Zack draw her to her feet. Zack kissed her lightly on her lips. "You did okay, Max," he said softly, warm breath against her ear. 

"Did I?" Max responded, just as soft as he. 

"Nobody wins with Dee. When it comes to her, this was a good day." 

Zack had procured another car before returning to collect Max and Dee. It was a dull red, and the rust was less visible than had been the case with the vehicle they had arrived in. Dee had claimed the front seat next to Zack. Max hadn't commented, despite the look her sister had shot her as Max fitted herself into the mildly cramped back seat. The seats were wearing thin in the back and Max shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a position which didn't find her with a sharp object jabbing into her thighs or rear. She preferred the back-seat despite the discomfort--at the moment, she didn't trust Dee at her back. 

The radio briefly roared to life at Dee's touch. Zack's hand clamped down on Dee's wrist, drawing her away from the radio. He shot her a warning look before turning down the volume, although he allowed Dee to keep the station she had chosen. Max caught sight of Dee's pout, reflected in the window. "How'd it go, Zack?" Dee asked, breaking the silence that had hung around them since they had left her former home. "With Jeff an' all. You kill the jerk?" her voice was eager, hard edged anger. 

Max was behind Dee's seat, allowing her a glimpse of Zack's face. She watched a muscle twitch in Zack's jaw and swallowed back her own emotions. Max suspected that Zack's idea of how to deal with the mess which Dee had made for herself did not mesh well with her own. Their different feelings about murder had led to some heated discussions in the past. Zack had always insisted that she couldn't comprehend what measures were necessary to protect their family--Max was less than happy at the idea of facing a never ending moral dilemma so long as she remained with Zack. 

Zack was looking in the rearview mirror, seeking out Max's eyes with his own. "No, I didn't kill anybody," he said, more for Max's benefit than Dee's. "But the situation is resolved," his voice was firm, demanding that both women set aside any questions arising from that comment. 

Dee had caught onto the tension. She lay a gentle hand on Zack's thigh. "It's okay, Zack--we do what we gotta do." 

...~*~... 

They had driven nearly non-stop for days, stopping only to relieve themselves and switch seats. Time had grown fuzzy and distant to Max, the world narrowing down to the scenery flickering past her window and the presence of Zack and Dee. She no longer knew or cared as to how long they had been on the move before Zack pulled over, turning into the half-filled parking lot to a motel. The car sighed and fell silent around them. Zack pulled the keys out, letting them dangle from his fingers as he opened the door. He stepped out, allowing himself the luxury of a long stretch. 

"I'll get us a room," he told them as Max and Dee emerged from the car. 

Dee sat on the hood of the car, face propped in her hands as she watched Zack's retreating back. "We're going to split soon," she noted, her voice soft. "You two are gonna ride on off together, and I'll set up again, alone and wait until the next time he pops back into my life." She turned her head, finding Max who was leaning against the side of the car. Dee's face was shadowed, eyes flat and glossy in the descending darkness. "Sometimes I miss Manticore, you know," she told Max. 

"I don't, not ever," Max said. 

Dee's lips twitched into a humourless grin. "I figured as much, sister mine. He loves you, you realize," Dee said, turning her face towards the direction Zack had set out in once again. "I bet he came back so often that you hardly had time to miss him. He comes to me because he's responsible for me, because I'm part of the duty he's taken upon himself. Manticore is the only thing tying us together." Dee sighed, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "I miss. . . being together, all of us, when we were the only thing that mattered." 

Max sat on the hood next to Dee, wrapping her arms around her knees. "We care--" 

Dee snorted. "'Course you do, Maxie. That's why you've been itching to get away from me ever since we set out." She followed Max's lead, drawing her knees into her chest as well, settling her chin on one bare knee. "You aren't anything like I thought you'd be, sis." 

"No," Max agreed. 

"I think I'd rather never have met you again." 

Max hesitated a moment. "Yeah," she finally agreed. "I love you, Dee, but I don't really like you all that much." 

"Uh huh," Dee murmured. She hopped towards the ground, absently running her hands across her thigh. Dee walked towards Zack, not looking back at Max. They stopped, Dee laying a hand on Zack's arm. She looked up at him, her voice soft and distant, sound rather than words to Max. Zack nodded and Dee stepped back, her hand sliding away from his arm, as if reluctant to leave its perch there. She moved around Zack, heading away. 

"What's she up to?" Max asked when Zack reached her. She slid off the car, falling into step with Zack. 

"She needed some air," he answered when he stopped before the door of the room that was to be theirs. "All of this has been tougher on her than I thought," Zack admitted, swinging the door open. He stepped into the room ahead of Max, scanning the room for any danger before he flicked on the light and gestured for Max to enter. 

"What happened to her, Zack?" Max asked, finally speaking the question that she'd been worrying over since first meeting Dee. She stripped off her jacket, tossing it onto the foot of the bed. Max followed, dropping down as she tugged off her boots. The door to the bathroom was open, the shower in sight. Max was definitely looking forward to the feel of clean water against her flesh. 

Zack shrugged. "I don't know, Max. She was like that when I found her." He rubbed at the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "She'd be dead by now if I hadn't found her when I did. She's trying to get herself killed." Zack shook his head, setting aside his concerns about Dee. "Go take your shower, Max." 

Max pulled her shirt over her head. She let it and her bra pile atop her discarded jacket. She shimmied out of her jeans and underwear. Zack wasn't even looking at her, Max saw with some surprise. "Join me?" Max offered, smiling slightly as she held her hand out towards him. 

Zack looked up at her. "No, you go ahead." 

"You sure?" Max asked, her eyebrows climbing upwards. 

"I'm sure," Zack insisted. 

Max left the bathroom door open a crack, both in invitation and to ensure that she could clearly hear what was happening beyond the bathroom. The water had always been hot at Manticore, she remembered as she stepped beneath the lukewarm spray. They had stood all together, naked and without any idea of embarrassment, vigorously scrubbing at bruised and scrapped skin. That memory dissolved beneath the hard rain of water against her upturned face, to be replaced by a more recent one. She could remember Zack's expression through the steam surrounding them when he had stepped into her bathroom, his desperation and pain. Max thought of what she had seen of her family thus far, what she had discovered of Zack in such a short period of time. She wondered whether he'd be able to continue much longer without cracking wide open. 

Zack had once said that she kept him centered, that she reminded him that he was human and not just an X5. He hadn't truly spoken to her in days. She'd held her hand out to him, stood naked and smiling before him, and he hadn't taken her hand. 

Max shut her eyes and lifted her face towards the falling water, standing still and silent beneath the steady spray. 


	4. Pt. 4 (added 5/14/01)

Untitled

_ Part 4  
May 14  
Spoilers: Hit a Sista Back_

Max sometimes suspected that Zack kept secrets simply for the enjoyment of knowing something that she did not. She wondered how he could possibly have kept news such as this from her. Max tenderly rested her fingers against Case's rounded cheek, smiling into wide dark eyes filled with intelligence. For as long as she could recall, family for Max had meant her fellow X5s. She had not dared to consider that any of them could ever make a life for themselves that in any way approached what most people took for granted. "He's beautiful," Max breathed, meeting Tinga's eyes over Case's head. 

Tinga smiled. Max had remembered Tinga as being serious and severe. She was radiant when she looked at her son--devoid for a moment of all the nightmares Manticore had etched into their minds. "Case needs to be getting to bed, though," Tinga said, her arms held out towards the boy nestled against Max. Max lifted him, passing him to his mother. The child nestled his head in the curve of Tinga's neck and she titled her head so that her cheek rested lightly against his hair. "He's growing rapidly, he's so tired most of the time," she informed Max and Zack. 

Max shifted on the couch when Tinga moved out of sight, carrying Case to his room. "I can't believe you didn't tell me about him earlier," Max said accusingly. 

Zack shrugged, the slightest upwards shift of his shoulders. "I didn't think it was important," he replied calmly. He stretched his jean clad legs out before him, booted feet crossed at the ankles. He skimmed over the titles of the children's books scattered over the coffee table in front of the couch. Zack spoke over the beginnings of Max's protest. "Knowing wouldn't have done you any good, Max." 

"You are infuriating," Max huffed. She broke off as Tinga reentered the room. Until that moment, Max had been captivated with her nephew, her attention focused exclusively on the small body she had been holding. With Case put to bed, Max turned her attention to her sister. Tinga had grown into a beautiful woman--far from surprising, considering the vast amount of work that had gone into making them perfect. Surprisingly, Tinga looked at ease in a domestic role. She looked as if there had never been any doubt that she were meant for a life filled with husband and child. 

"Still haven't had it removed, I see," Zack commented, his voice tinged with disapproval. 

Tinga's looping braids of hair had shifted, exposing the dark bands imprinted on the back of her neck. She sat down across from her two visitors, right hand absently settling over the barcode which had attracted Zack's attention. "Having it removed now would simply arouse Charlie's suspicion," Tinga said, some of the glow fading from her face. She cast a glance in Max's direction, and seeing the surprise on her sister's face offered an explanation. "Charlie thinks it's a tattoo." 

"He doesn't know?" Max said. 

Tinga's gaze slid away, eyes fixing on her hands, folded in her lap. Her wedding band was unadorned, simple gold. "No--I couldn't tell him, I tried but. . . ." 

Zack's eyes had sharpened. "It's better that he doesn't know," he stated firmly. "What Charlie doesn't know won't hurt him--we're all safer like this." He paused briefly before continuing. "When is he getting home, anyway?" Zack asked, mild distaste in his question. Max shot him a hard glare which Zack ignored. 

Tinga didn't appear to be insulted by Zack's tone concerning her husband. Her smile flared back to life, all amusement at Zack's expense. "Charlie's shift changed since the last time you dropped in. He should be returning soon." Tinga shook her head, smiling in Max's direction. "They wear on each other's nerves," she informed her sister. "Zack showed up before the wedding, and ever since then, Charlie has been certain that Zack is trying to steal me away. And Zack--" 

"Thinks that Charlie is a poor reason to endanger oneself," Zack cut in. 

"Has hated Charlie ever since he didn't slink away when Zack roared at him," Tinga concluded calmly. "You know how Zack is," Tinga said waving her hand, carefully avoiding looking in Zack's direction, "playing at the over-protective big brother when it comes to my love life." 

"Uh huh," Max drew out, remembering Zack's reaction to some of her former boyfriends--not, Max amended, that he had been especially driven by brotherly feelings at the time. Danny's nose had never been the same, she remembered. "I'm looking forward to meeting the man worthy of your heart, Tinga--Penny," she said, shifting into the use of her sister's new name. 

"And I'm sure he'll be relieved to meet you, Max. Having you here should soothe some of his worries." Tinga stood, straightening her blouse around her. "That's him," she said, head cocked towards the open window. A car door closed, the sound carrying easily to their sensitive ears. "I have today off, they're renovating the bakery where I work." Tinga had moved towards the kitchen, briefly disappearing behind the door of the fridge. She emerged a moment later with a plate piled with cut chicken. She set it on the counter, reaching for the bag of bread next to the sink. "It isn't often that we get to eat supper together, seeing as our work schedules clash," Tinga said. 

Max rose. "We can come back later," she offered. 

Tinga dipped a knife into a tub of butter. "No, I want you two here. It's even rarer that I get to see my siblings," she told Max firmly, gesturing for Max to sit back down. "I want you and Charlie to meet each other." They could hear the sound of footsteps, moving down the hallway. "Here he comes," Tinga said as the footsteps stopped. 

Charlie looked like a good guy, Max thought as Tinga's husband stepped into his apartment. He looked tired, but a smile had formed on his face as he glanced towards the couch on which she and Zack sat. Charlie's smile froze when he saw who it was seated before him. Max smiled reassuringly at him, her hand set on Zack's thigh. Charlie's eyes slid towards the kitchen, the smile regaining warmth as he spotted Tinga. "Penny," he said. 

Tinga moved back into the living room. She slid up against Charlie, arms winding about his neck. She pressed a quick kiss to his mouth before pulling back slightly, caught in his arms as they moved about her waist. "Sam showed up a few hours ago," she explained, her voice soft enough that normal humans would not have caught her words from where Zack and Max sat. "He was in town and decided to drop in and visit." Her voice dropped even lower, "he'll be gone soon enough, so be nice." 

Max snorted at Tinga's final words, ignoring Zack's frosty glare. She rose, holding her hand out to Charlie when Tinga moved to her husband's side. Charlie accepted her hand. He had a good grip, Max noted, deciding that she liked the guy. Any man Tinga liked couldn't be bad. 

"This is Max, an old friend of mine," Tinga introduced them. "She's here with Sam." Tinga looked back and forth between her sister and husband. "Max, this is Charlie." 

"Pleased to meet you," Charlie said. 

"Same here," Max responded. 

"Sam," Charlie acknowledged, his voice going cool as he looked at the man still seated on the couch. 

Zack grunted in reply. 

Tinga rolled her eyes, heaving an exasperated sigh. "Never mind, Charlie," she said, guiding him away from Zack. "Supper is nearly ready." 

"Hey, Penny," Max called out, reaching for Zack's hand. She pulled at him until Zack rose. Aware of Charlie's curious eyes on them, Max slid an arm around Zack's waist, flashing a quick smile up at him. "You two have supper--we've already eaten. Sam and I will take a look around town and head back here in a couple of hours." 

Tinga had been living in Portland for years, and in that time, Zack had come to know the area well. He had shown Max around, paying special attention to routes they could use to escape should Lydecker ever advance on Tinga's position. They found themselves back at Tinga's home before too much time had passed, but unwilling to intrude on Tinga's time with her husband, Max had insisted that they remain outside a while longer. She and Zack sat at the edge of the sidewalk in front of Tinga's apartment complex, sitting close enough that their shoulders touched. 

"I'm surprised that you didn't take drastic measures when you found out about Tinga and Charlie," Max commented, steering their conversation back into directions which truly interested her. 

"I thought about it--simply taking Tinga and getting the hell out of here, her wishes be damned," Zack admitted. "But I'm not completely heartless, Max." 

"I've never thought that," Max protested. She brought her hand to the back of Zack's neck, resting her hand against the skin temporarily burned free of his barcode. Her thumb moved back and forth, a steady rhythm against his neck. Her hand fell away when Max moved to hook her arm with Zack's. She rested her head against his shoulder, eyes turned up towards the night sky. "I know you care about all of us, Zack--never once have I doubted that." 

Zack sighed, his fingers curling with Max's against his thigh. "She deserved to be happy, and Charlie manages to do that. I won't needlessly take Tinga's happiness away from her, but the moment her safety is at risk here. . . ." he trailed off, leaving the destruction of Tinga's world unspoken. "You're one of the reasons why I didn't protest too much when I found out what Tinga had planned." 

"I am?" Max questioned, pulling back in order to see Zack's face. 

"It would have been hypocritical of me to tell Tinga that she couldn't afford any weaknesses while I've let you become mine." 

"Now _that's_ what every girl wants to hear," Max laughed, brushing aside the seriousness of Zack's statement. They didn't do stuff like that--she and Zack never seriously discussed their relationship and what it meant. It simply was, both of them drawing different benefits from its existence. "I'm glad--whatever the reason--that Tinga got to experience this. Case is adorable," her voice softened when she named her nephew. 

"I suppose he is," Zack answered. "I don't know how she could do that to another person--how she could willingly create another life for Lydecker to destroy. He'll find out eventually, he always does. Best case scenario, Case grows up without his mother. Worst, Lydecker takes the kid and moulds another soldier out of him. You saw." 

"He's like us," Max said, fear curling in her stomach at Zack's words. "Is this what you always think like, Zack?" She had seen only love and joy in Tinga's life with Charlie and Case, while Zack had found the potential for pain and loss. 

"Someone has to," Zack responded. "I have to stay centered, keep my focus on the real issues." He could feel the tension creeping through Max's body. "You don't want to hear any of this, Max. You can be the happy one--the one our family is glad to see at their door." He stirred, hand loosening around Max's. "We've given them long enough. Let's head back inside." 

...~*~... 

Charlie was seated on Case's bed, a book opened on his lap. Max paused in the door, watching the Tinga's family. Zack had taken Tinga aside some few minutes earlier, the two of them standing out of sight on the fire-escape. Zack had shot Max a look, asking that she keep Charlie out of their way, and Max had known that Zack was delivering news of Tosh's death to their sister. She remembered with a sudden pang that Tosh and Tinga had been close in Manticore. 

". . . And they lived happily ever after," Charlie concluded, his voice soft. Max had heard some of the bedtime stories Tinga told her son--she wondered whether Charlie had noted that none of hers ended so neatly and happily. He bent forward, laying a soft kiss at his son's forehead. Charlie tucked the book into the night-stand beside the boy's bed before rising. He turned, jumping with a muffled curse as he spotted Max in the doorway. 

"Sorry," Max mouthed, moving out of the doorway so that Charlie could join her in the hall. 

The door shut with a slight click behind him. "You move as quietly as Penny," Charlie commented. His eyes narrowed slightly, face serious. "You remind me of her in a lot of different ways." 

"Oh?" Max said. 

Charlie nodded. "The way you move, how you sound, some of your expressions. It's eerie." Charlie hesitated, considering whether to continue his line of thought with a woman he had met only days ago. "Sam reminds me of her, too. I didn't realize it at first--too busy gnashing my teeth over what an ass he was--" he cut off, suddenly apologetic. 

Max waved away his forming apology. "Hey, no problem. Sam takes some getting used to, and even then, he ain't easy to be around." She could hear the rise and fall of Tinga and Zack's voices, the sudden catch in Tinga's throat as Zack delivered the worst of his news. Max closed her eyes and drew in a wavering breath, remembering her own sorrow at the loss of one of her family. 

Charlie's hand brushed across her shoulder. "You okay?" 

Max's eyes snapped open. "Yeah, fine." 

"She never mentioned you," Charlie said slowly. "I didn't even know about Sam until he showed up before our wedding. But you're close, all of you." He rubbed his hand through his hair, sighing. 

Max looked away, uneasy with the turn their conversation had taken. She had never been in a serious relationship. Max had never been in a position where another person was intimately tied into the lies she had created for herself. "Some things," Max began cautiously, "are too deep for words." 

Charlie smiled tightly. "Yeah, maybe that's it." 

Tinga was composed by the time Charlie and Max joined them in the kitchen. Tinga and Zack were seated at the table, a mug of coffee before each of them. Before Tinga lifted her mug to her mouth, Max saw how tightly her sister held her lips. Charlie pulled out the chair next to her and sat down. He didn't know, Max knew. He saw Penny, his wife, the mother of his child, safe in their home entertaining an old friend. She had been crying mere moments earlier, mourning the loss of a piece of herself, and he didn't know. He wouldn't ever know. 

Zack had seen something on her face that hinted of her feelings. "Max?" his voice was sharp. 

Max shook her head. "I'm sorry," she said, holding a hand to her temple. "I'm not feeling so well. I think I'll just lay down for a while." 

"Max?" Tinga questioned with concern. 

"I'll be fine, just give me a bit." 


	5. Pt. 5 (added5/18/01)

Untitled

_ Part 5  
May 16-18, 2001._

Max cast a sultry look in the motel manager's direction. She drew her tongue across her lower lip, and the man behind the desk froze, watching her with wide eyed fascination. Max flashed him a wide grin filled with promises before yelping when Zack's hand tightened around her wrist, moving her behind him. Max rested her cheek against Zack's back, rubbing her face against his soft leather coat. Her arms wrapped around his waist, hands wandering down towards his zipper. He'd slapped her hands away in the car before they ended up driving straight into the rear of the truck in front of them. His restraint was slipping, because Max managed to get the button of his jeans undone before Zack made any move to stop her. 

Zack didn't yelp at the contact, but his voice was decidedly strained. "The key," he growled at the balding man who had been watching the show before him, the key to the room Zack had rented dangling from his hand. "_Now_!" Zack roared and the other man snapped back to attention, shoving the key across the counter. Zack grabbed the key, holding it so hard that it bit into his flesh. He turned around, wrapping one arm around Max's shoulders. She cast a last flirtatious glance at the manager over her shoulder before letting Zack lead her away, squirming against him the entire torturous journey towards their room. 

The door had barely slammed shut behind them before Max pounced. 

She wasn't quite sure how much time had passed when she cautiously cracked her eyes open. Max winced slightly, mentally checking off her various aches and twinges. "Oh, fuck," Max groaned. Zack had collapsed beside her on the bed, weary enough that he hadn't stirred even at Max's exclamation. She flung a bare arm across her eyes, letting loose with a pained curse as her shoulder pulled. 'Now, how did. . . oh, that, right,' Max recalled where exactly in the last while she had received that particular injury. 

This was in no way how she had envisioned concluding their visit with Tinga. Knowing that Tinga understood what was happening had not made things any easier--indeed, having another X5 female present had opened up an entirely new realm of uncomfortable possibilities. She had known it was definitely time to get out when Tinga had snarled at her--understandable, Max thought with an small groan, considering that Max had been sashaying towards Charlie at the time. They had been lucky that Zack had intercepted her before had Charlie noticed and things got ugly. She had been firmly ushered out of Tinga's home by Zack who had proceeded to buckle her into the car with a firm admonition to stay still. He had been gone only long enough to grab the bags Tinga had passed out to him. 

Zack had drifted into wakefulness at some point while Max reviewed the--long, she thought dejectedly--list of her heat-induced actions. He lifted his head, and Max got her first sight of the scratches on the cheek which had previously been hidden from her view. Their bodies expended energy healing more serious injuries before the minor ones were addressed, and the scratches were still vivid against Zack's face. Zack licked his lips and cleared his throat. "Next time," he began, testing his voice, "we aren't going anywhere near any of the others while you're in heat." 

"No arguments from me there," Max said, nodding minutely. She didn't even want to consider the possibilities. The pillow had been scrunched up between the mattress and headboard. Max's arm stretched outwards, freeing the pillow. She pulled under her aching head, shifting so that her head turned towards Zack though Max remained stretched out on her back. "You mind if we just lay here for a while?" she asked, unable to so much as imagine rising to her feet. 

Zack grunted his agreement. "I don't think I can stand," he said, head dropping back down to lay on the mattress. "My knee suffered some definite damage." 

"I told you I wanted to be on top," Max mumbled around her pillow. It was weird, Max thought. When her cycle had driven her to seek out guys in the past they would go at it until the man she had chosen was too exhausted to do any more. It had been intense, but not especially rough. Max's eyes widened suddenly. "Zack, tell me that the manager didn't show up at our door to tell us to keep it down." 

He looked at her blearily. "I took care of him," Zack muttered. 

"That's what I thought," Max sighed. "You know, we're goin' to have to pay more if you broke any bones." 

"Whatever," Zack responded. He paused, his voice mildly annoyed when he continued. "I don't know what people were complaining about. We're far more interesting that any of the crap they'd have paid to watch here, anyhow." 

Max snorted, holding her hands to her stomach. "Ouch--don't make me laugh," she pleaded. "I don't doubt some people got a kick out of the vocals, but it probably wore thin for those who weren't here after a while." Max carefully propped herself up on her elbows. Her body didn't protest too much, so Max slowly slid her feet towards the ground. She stood still a moment, making sure she gained her balance before attempting to move. "I call the shower." 

"Go ahead," Zack said, wriggling into the extra space vacated with Max's departure. "Open the window, would you? Can't breath in here." 

...~*~... 

They had stopped late in the afternoon for lunch and a bit of exercise. Zack had pulled their latest car into the emptied parking lot of an old building which had once housed a Dairy Queen. The two X5s had settled down at one of the picnic tables beyond the building, setting the brown-bagged lunches Tinga had provided on the table's chipping surface. Max absently batted at the flies which had drifted away from the garbage can several feet away towards she and Zack. She unfolded the top of the bag, blindly feeling the contents within it. Max emerged a moment later with a partially squashed muffin. She peeled away the wrapping and broke off a piece, popping it into her mouth. "Carrot," Max commented. "Want a piece?" she asked, holding it out to Zack. 

"No, thanks," Zack replied as he emerged triumphant from his own bag with a slightly bruised apple. 

"Oh, Zack," Max sighed mournfully. "Whenever will you discover the joys of junk food?" She dropped another piece of muffin into her mouth before licking off her fingers. Zack simply shot her a steady look and Max stuck her tongue out at him. He shook his head slightly and heaved an exaggerated sigh. The muffin had been whittled away to a manageable size. She lifted it to her mouth, absently tearing away crumbling carrot-flavoured segments. Her free hand rested against her neck, elbow propped on the table-top. Her fingers curled towards the back of her neck, fingertips resting on the dark bands imprinted in her flesh. "Zack?" 

He looked towards her, an eyebrow quirked questioningly. "Yeah?" 

Someone had cut two names into the table-top, a crudely drawn heart etched around the names. Max traced the shallow grooves with her index finger. "You want kids?" she asked. 

Zack managed not to choke on his mouthful of apple. He chewed, swallowed and cleared his throat. "Are you kidding?" he demanded. Zack was regarding her warily, as if he had never seen her before. 

Max waved off his incredulous reply. "I mean if things were different--if we didn't have Manticore hounding us." Max shot a quick glance in Zack's direction from beneath lowered eyelashes. He had shifted on his side of the table, moving so that his side rested against the edge of the table-top. The position afforded him a view of most of their surroundings and left his face in profile. 

"No, I don't want kids--not even if things were different," Zack finally said. "I don't think I'd make a good parent. I doubt that I'd even be an adequate one." He shot her a curious look. "What brought this on, Max?" 

"Tinga and her family," Max responded. "I remember thinking that it was so cool, so absolutely wonderful that Tinga had a kid--that maybe, if she could manage normal, so could I." Max shrugged, wiping her palms against her thighs under the table. "But this morning when we woke up, that wasn't anything near normal. It's something I wanted, you know? A life like everyone's else. I don't think I'd be good at it, though." 

"We aren't normal," Zack said simply, as if surprised that Max could still be struggling with something he had long since dismissed within his own mind. His eyes turned hard, "if you plan on helping me with the others, now really isn't a good time to start longing for normalcy, husband, children and white picket fence, Max." He stood, sending his apple core twirling through the air to land neatly in the garbage can. Zack held out his hand, waiting patiently until Max took it. 

"I wasn't longing," Max informed him haughtily, "I was simply reflecting upon alternate lifestyles." Zack had led her several steps away from the empty picnic tables. Max rolled her eyes when she noted the stance he had fallen into. "I think we've already given each other enough of a workout for a good long while," she said, nonetheless moving into a position which mirrored Zack's. 

Zack's lips twitched into a fleeting smile. "Got to make sure you're up to speed," he said and lashed out with his clenched fist. He had repeatedly brought up the idea of a regular training program every time he had visited Max in the past. She had consistently refused to spend their often limited time together sparring. He had initiated new sessions shortly after Dee had left them--inspired anew, Max had suspected, by her fight with her sister. Max always groaned in protest, but she enjoyed sparring with Zack. It felt good to simply let go. And making Zack bleed was a surprisingly helpful form of stress relief. 

Zack caught hold of Max's wrist. With a quick move, he sent her sprawling into the grass they had spent the last several minutes trampling. The various aches which had quieted during their drive reawakened--duller than previously, but still uncomfortable. "I give," Max sighed. Getting her own butt kicked wasn't half as fun as bringing Zack down. 

"That," Zack stated firmly, "was pitiful." 

Max propped herself up on her forearms, idly picking at the grass beneath her with thumb and forefinger. "I seem to recall getting a few good blows in," Max defended herself without much heat. Zack found things to critique even when he didn't win. She sometimes considered the possibility that Zack simply wasn't happy unless he was finding things in which to express his disapproval. "Should have kicked you in that knee--we'd see how pitiful I'd have been then." 

"Come on, get up," Zack said, holding his hand out to her. 

"Not if you're going to make me fight again," Max said. She sighed when Zack simply stared at her. "Fine, fine, be that way," she muttered, accepting Zack's hand. He pulled her up. It was strange, Max thought, that they had always helped each other back to their feet at the end of a sparing session even though any of them could have bounded back to their feet without any real difficulty. "What brought this on?" Max inquired, on her feet again. She brushed off the seat of her pants and shook at the hem of her shirt to shake loose the grass caught against her clothing. 

"We're doing something a bit different before we stop in to see any of the others," Zack answered her. 

"Well, go on," Max prodded when Zack stopped. 

"I have a contact inside of Manticore," Zack informed her. He looked mildly amused at Max's surprise. "What? You thought I was too hot-headed to do work with informants?" He began walking, moving back towards the picnic table where the remainders of their lunches had been left. Max fell into step beside him. "He said he has some information for me. He wants to meet." 

"You trust him?" 

"No," Zack answered. He didn't trust anybody--not even her, Max knew. Zack depended upon her more than he did anyone else, but there were things he wouldn't even trust her with. She understood. Max doubted that any of the X5s were capable of shaking off enough of their training to trust anyone fully. "But he's proven to be reliable in the past." Zack paused, face tightening. "He's the one who told me that Manticore had a lead on Tosh." 

Max's eyes widened. "You don't think--" 

Zack shook his head. "I don't think so," he said. "It didn't sound like an emergency." 

"Where and when?" Max asked, her mind already racing through all the possibilities. For all her longing for a peaceful life, Max held a certain enjoyment for jobs which required the use of skills she had spent her childhood honing. 

Zack shrugged. "I don't know yet. This is something big, it's going to take some planning on my contact's end. He needs to get away from Manticore and get ahold of the package he wants to deliver. Soon enough." Zack stopped at the table, picking up his lunchbag which was still filled with other items of food. Tinga was serious about providing a complete lunch. "Let's go," Zack said. "We've been here long enough." 

...~*~... 


	6. Pt. 6 (added 5/19/01)

Untitled

_ Part 6  
May 18-19, 2001.  
Spoilers: Female Trouble_

They had finally moved into the warehouse by which they had been situated. Droplets of water ran down Max's face, traced a path down the back of her neck and further still down her spine beneath her soaked top. Her hair was a mess of heavy, damp strands which she knew would dry full and frizzy. She would have liked nothing more than to wring the excess water out of her hair and lay her clothing out to dry. Instead, Max was standing on guard, stiff and suspicious beside Zack as they warily watched the two individuals before them. 

The man stood closer to Max than he did to Zack. He was tall, with brown hair which held hints of red. He had a nice body--one which Max suspected came more from good genes than any hard physical activity. The man's bearing in no way marked him as a soldier, and his reaction to the fight which had erupted upon their arrival spoke of little comfort with physical confrontations. His hands moved constantly as he spoke, long fingers flickering nervously, clearly proclaiming his unease. He had a nice voice, something which Max had only recently discovered as he had been screaming near non-stop until moments earlier. 

He had not been the cause of the tension. It was his companion who had served to ignite hostility in the two X5s. Max had been hovering in the background, keeping an eye out for any signs of Manticore. Zack had already engaged Jace by the time she had reached their position. There had been barely masked rage on Zack's face, and Max had wondered exactly what role Jace had played in Tosh's death. Victor had waved his hands about, helplessly darting through the air as he watched the fight unfolding before him with horror. He had taken a step forward only to back away as a kick from Jace had sent Zack tumbling back towards him. 

Zack's hair was plastered to his head. Jace hadn't been pulling her punches--there was a bruise forming around Zack's eye and blood was smudged at the corner of his mouth. He looked fierce, nearly savage as he regarded the woman who had once been his sister. "Talk," Zack commanded, the word skirting along the edges of a full-out snarl. 

Victor evidently didn't trust Jace to present their case, for he cut in before an explanation could pass Jace's lips. He caught sight of his fluttering hands and slid them into the pockets of his rain-slicked jacket. "We need your help," Victor said, his voice soft as if muting the words would somehow make them more acceptable. "Please--" he cut off Zack's response, "let me finish." He took a deep breath, casting a look in Jace's direction. Her expression was stony, eyes fixed on Max and Zack. Victor seemed to find something strengthening in her face, for his voice grew firmer. "We want your help in getting free of Manticore." 

Zack blinked in slow disbelief. He took a moment, and Max could see him gathering his patience. "Why?" Zack asked as calmly as he could manage, although darker emotions still ran strongly beneath his more moderate tone. He turned the full weight of his gaze towards Jace. "After all this time--_why_?" 

Jace met Zack's eyes without flinching. "The situation had changed," Jace stated. "I no longer believe that Manticore is the best place in which to remain." 

Victor drew forth a smile, holding it in place through pure force of will. He began to move his hand in Jace's direction before thinking better of it. His hand hovered momentarily before falling back towards his body. He slid it back into his pocket, not trusting it to remain free. "We're in love," Victor admitted. He straightened, face hardening at Zack's scornful snort. "Think what you will, but it's the truth," Victor said hotly. "We're in love and. . .," his face filled with conflicting emotions, "and we're going to be parents." 

Wide-eyed, Max turned towards Jace. "You're pregnant?" she gasped, unable to reconcile the Jace before her with what she thought to be necessary of mothers. Max couldn't picture herself as a mother, had been shocked to discover that Tinga had a child--and Jace, who had remained in Manticore and had lived with their teachings for the entirety of her life was about to have a child of her own. It was inconceivable. 

Jace turned her steady gaze in Max's direction. "I am," she affirmed crisply. "And it is for that reason that I find it necessary to leave Manticore." Her emotionless presentation of facts faltered, feeling leaking into her voice. "I fear what will happen to us--and my baby--once Lydecker finds out." She drew in a breath, dipping her head slightly. "I didn't go with you that night because I was frightened of failing and the consequences of such, and because I was just as fearful of success and what that would mean for me. But I'm going to have a baby and I can't. . ." she broke off, swallowing. 

Victor picked up the explanation. "Manticore has been testing the offspring of the various classes--all in laboratory settings, so far. It hasn't been pretty," he admitted, looking slightly queasy as if the mere mention of the experiments Manticore had been performing was enough to make him ill. "I don't doubt that the labs will be more than eager to get ahold of a child conceived naturally between an X5 and non-X5." He fixed pleading eyes on Zack. "You have to help us--please, I'm begging you." 

Max didn't know how Zack managed to keep his voice cool. "Why do you think that we can help you?" 

"Why do you think?" Victor demanded. "You guys have managed to keep out of Manticore's grasp for years. I figured that there must be something. . . I don't know, some way for you to make new identity papers for us, _something_!" His hand had freed itself from his pocket once again, running through his hair. Short locks jutted outwards messily, disturbed by the passage of his hand. "Look, I've helped you before--lots of times, even when doing so put me at risk." 

Zack's eyebrow climbed upwards. "Is that the extent of your argument?" 

"For Christ's sake, man!" Victor exclaimed. "Didn't you hear anything I said? I'm talking about basic human decency here. Don't you care that a member of your family will be tortured, put through barbaric tests and--" 

"Forget it, Victor," Jace said. "I knew that it would be a waste of time to come here. Zack always was rather selective in those duties as CO which he fulfilled." 

"I am no longer your commanding officer," Zack countered, his voice frigid. 

"Helping us--the child I am carrying--is in the best interest of all of the X5s. Think past your anger, Zack." Jace's upper lip curled slightly, "if you're still able to do so, or has the outside world truly dulled your mind?" 

"_Jace_," Victor hissed softly in protest. She ignored him. "Zack, I'm sorry, she didn't mean--" 

Zack cut off the other man's apology. "Shut up," he snapped. "Max," Zack addressed her, nodding his head in the direction of the corner opposite of that where they were currently positioned. Max followed as Zack moved away. She already knew what she would recommend. For all that Jace had done, she was still her sister, still family. Max would not allow a child--her niece or nephew--to be put through the never-ending hell which had been her life until the escape. She suspected that Zack would agree with her sooner or later--after all, he was as fiercely protective of family as was she. 

...~*~... 

Victor had been right--Zack did have contacts with people capable of forging identity papers. Once he had decided to give his aid to Jace and Victor, Zack had moved quickly to obtain the necessary documents. He hadn't allowed Jace or Victor to accompany him, not willing to compromise a valuable resource on a story he was still wary of. He had left the others with the car, parked in the lot of a fast-food restaurant after stopping to get the pictures necessary for the documents which would be created. 

Max and Victor sat in the front seats. Jace was curled up in the back-seat, head pillowed on Victor's jacket. In a soft, awed voice, Victor had explained that the pregnancy had impacted on the amount of rest Jace needed. She needed more sleep more often, couldn't go without food for as long as she had been able to previously, and couldn't engage in any sustained strenuous activities. His face grim, Victor told Max that he had feared for Jace's safety and that of their child while she had been fighting Zack. 

Max drummed her fingers against her thigh, considering Victor through narrowed eyes. "How has she managed to conceal her pregnancy, then? They are fairly observant back at Manticore--especially when it comes to the performances of their creations." 

"She's been in the field for the last month," Victor explained. "That's why I had to put off our meeting so long--her return to base was pushed back several times. I didn't think we would both be able to get out at the same time. I had nightmares about all the things that could go wrong." Victor turned in his seat, looking at Jace over his headrest. His eyes went soft and tender. "But no matter the risk, I knew I couldn't let Manticore hurt her." 

It was difficult to imagine what could have attracted Victor to Jace and vice versa. Despite his employment at Manticore, Victor seemed. . . soft, was the best word Max could come up with to describe her impression of the man. And although she had broken regulations in becoming involved with Victor, Jace was still very much a soldier caught up in ideals of strength, duty and destruction. Max knew that when older, the classes were allowed a degree more freedom than had been the case while younger. That small amount of free-time didn't seem to account for how the two could have fallen in love--a stolen minute here and there hardly seemed conducive to the formation of a deep emotional attachment. 

"How did it happen--you and Jace?" Max questioned. If the question had been directed towards her, Max would have shot it down. Victor seemed more open, nearly eager to discuss his relationship with Jace. Max doubted that there had been many opportunities for him to express his emotions while inside Manticore. 

Victor shrugged lightly. "I'm not sure, myself, sometimes. I knew that become involved with an X5 held definite risks, but I never thought that I'd have to worry about that. You guys are perfection, and I'm just. . ." he held out his hands, "me. No normal girl has ever considered me to be much of a catch. No way in hell would I have imagined I'd gain the interest of an X5." He settled back into his seat, leaning his head back. Victor's eyes drifted shut, a smile forming at his lips. "I'd seen Jace before, and I had known that she was special--something _more_, you know? And one day, she looked right back at me." 

"It must have been hard," Max commented, "having and hiding a relationship in Manticore." 

Victor's eyes slitted back open. "It was. Bad enough just being able to find time together somewhere safe, but it killed not being able to do normal stuff--just being able to hold her hand, or kiss her whenever I wanted to." His lips compressed, pain marked by the lines around his lips. "I couldn't go to her when I most wanted to--I found out that she was injured, once, and I couldn't go to her side and let her know that I was there and that I loved her." Victor sighed, summoning forth a smile. "But it's all going to be different now, Max." 

"I hope you're right," Max responded cautiously. She wasn't so sure that things would turn out as well as Victor wanted. Relationships--life in general--were still difficult for Max on occasion and she had had years to adjust to the world beyond Manticore. After being exposed to Manticore for as long as she had been, Max didn't know whether Jace would ever be able to shake off her training to become to woman Victor seemed to feel she could be. 

"I am right," Victor said certainly. 

"It won't be easy," Max cautioned him. 

"I know," Victor responded. "But we can do it. It'll be worth it. This is all I've ever wanted--the woman I love at my side, a family, the chance to create a life for ourselves." His hand rested against Max's, Victor's eyes intent against her own. "Thank you, Max. I can't thank you enough for giving us this opportunity." 

Max's lips turned up into a small smile. She couldn't help but like Victor. He seemed so sincere, so passionately in love with Jace. He truly believed everything that he was saying--Max's enhanced senses would have picked up on changes in his heartrate and any number of other signs had he been weaving a lie. "I didn't do anything, Victor. This is happening because of you--your bravery, your determination, and your love." 

Victor smiled back. "Maybe so, but getting away from Manticore would be a hell of a lot more difficult if you and Zack hadn't agreed to help us." 

There was movement beyond the rain-slicked windshield. Zack moved in front of the car, moving towards the passenger side. Victor took the hint, opening the door at stepping into the light rain. He clambered into the rear seat, smiling when Jace murmured sleepily and opened her eyes. Zack claimed the vacated seat next to Max, slamming the door shut behind him. 

Jace had shaken off sleep quickly. "You have the papers?" she asked, sharp and worried. 

Zack's lips compressed, his jaw held stiff. Helping Jace had been difficult for him. Max suspected that a great deal of his hostility came from the events surrounding Tosh's death, but Zack had simply stared at her with blank eyes when Max had asked. They had all done things they regretted--Zack himself had been involved in murder--so she knew his anger was rooted in more than Jace's affiliation with Manticore. Zack's face had been cleared of emotion when he shifted in his seat to face Jace and Victor. 

"Alex Clute and Jenn Nicholis," Zack said, handing the corresponding package to each of the passengers. "I got you the full package--there is every piece of identification necessary to set up a new life." 

"Thank you," Victor said as Zack turned to face forward. "I can't express how much this means to us." Victor's hand crept across the seat, holding onto Jace's. "We're going to be okay, Jace," he breathed. "We're going to make it." Victor leaned forward, meeting Jace in a kiss. 

Zack had looked away. Max cast a glance at the two in the rearview mirror. 'Sweet,' she tapped out against Zack's clenched hand. 

His face was hard when he opened his eyes to Max. "She's anything but sweet," he spoke softly, below the range of Victor's hearing. Jace had caught Zack's harsh reply, her eyes wide and glossy, reflected in the rearview mirror. "Let's go," Zack said into the sudden silence. 

"Right," Max murmured, tearing her eyes away from Jace's. The car stuttered back to life around them. Max pulled out of the parking lot, turning onto the street. The wipers squeaked across the windshield, clearing free rain in dragging arcs. 

Victor was speaking softly in the rear of the car, his words clear to everyone in the vehicle. "Maybe Vermont--I grew up there, you know. We'll buy a small house once I get a job and save up a bit of money. We'll fix it up, the two of us. It'll be great, Jace, you'll see. You're going to love life outside of Manticore, Jace--it'll be better than you ever imagined." 

Jace's laugh was low and throaty. "I do love you, Victor." 

Max concentrated on driving. 

...~*~... 


	7. Pt. 7 (added 5/27/01)

Untitled

_ Part 7  
May 26, 27 2001.  
Note: I'm terrible at action scenes--sorry for skimming over that kind of stuff._

Victor hadn't known. His eyes had been round, mouth parted in shock, frozen in surprise even as Jace had drawn out her gun. He truly had loved Jace. He hadn't lied to them, he had wanted a life free from Manticore where he could create a future for himself and his family. He hadn't been able to comprehend that Manticore was more than an organization--it was a way of life, a manner of thinking, something cold and hard that sunk into the hearts and minds of those who had been born into it. Victor might have cried out his confusion or his love had he been given time enough to find words enough to express his emotions. His body had jerked, head snapping back, and he had fallen. 

Max had stared at her sister, disbelieving. She had understood in that moment the pure rage Zack had been choking on since they had agreed to aid Jace. Max had desired nothing more in that instant than to attack Jace--to beat out her sense of betrayal on the other woman's body. She had heard the rumble of approaching military vehicles--when had Jace found time to contact Manticore out of their sight?--and had known that she would truly be lost should she engage Jace in a fight. Max had met Zack's eyes--a moment of understanding between them--and he had struck out at Jace, hard enough to make her crumple to the ground. Max and Zack had separated, heading in opposite directions. 

They had found her little over an hour later. She had waken with horrified cries from nightmares such as this in the past. The thought of Manticore so close to capturing her had been a source of terror for Max since she had first escaped them. There had been some close calls in the past, but Max had never before been so close to being captured--she had always had enough warning to escape without fighting her way free before. She had fought fiercely, so caught up in her desperate desire to remain free that Max had given herself up fully to instinct and training. She had always attempted to avoid killing in all her previous physical confrontations. She hadn't pulled her punches when confronted with Manticore's men. It hadn't been enough. 

Max's eyes peeled open to find Jace before her. "How could you?" Max demanded, speaking the words which had been twisting inside her since she had been made aware of Jace's betrayal. "Victor. Your baby." She struggled to push herself up further, inching her way up the wall at her back until she sat straight. Dark strands of hair had tumbled before her face, catching at her eyes and mouth. Max made an unconscious motion to push the hair back, only to be drawn short by the cuffs around her wrists, pinning her hands tight behind her back. 

Jace rocked back on her heels, hands lightly clasped between her bent knees. "I am a true soldier," Jace said calmly. "I did only what was required of me. We were aware that Victor was passing information to Zack when I first became involved with him." 

"You used him." 

"He betrayed Manticore," Jace shrugged. 

"He loved you," Max responded, unable to believe that her sister could be so untouched by Victor's obvious devotion to her. 

Jace shrugged again, slower. "I know." 

Max licked her lips, finding the blood at the corner of her mouth. She couldn't recall being struck there. The entire battle was a blur, Max could not even think of how she had been taken out. "The baby, did you lie about that, too?" Max asked. 

Jace stood, a single smooth motion. "No," she answered. "I am pregnant." 

Max's chest was tight. Her throat was burning with the attempt to hold back tears. "You told me what they do to babies, Jace. They'll do that to your child--they'll hurt it like they did us, more, maybe. Don't you care about that?" 

Jace had changed back into her uniform. Her dark hair was brought back into a tight pony-tail, leaving her face bare. She held her hands loose and ready at her side. Jace's face was painfully devoid of emotion as she looked down at Max. "You're seeing Manticore through a child's eyes, Max. What happened to us was necessary--it was meant to forge us into skilled soldiers capable of defending this country. I would be proud for my child to be a part of such a goal." 

"What if your baby is like Jack? What if he's considered defective and they take your child away, cut him open and pull him to pieces to better examine him? What about Clay? Or Ro? Kip? You remember what happened to them? You want your baby to suffer like they did?" Max demanded, her voice rising to a near-scream by the final word. She could hear the men ranged through the room behind Jace, some of them shifting uneasily with her words. "You're going to deliver your baby into the hands of torturers and butchers, Jace. Manticore can't possibly have so stripped you of emotion that you don't feel something at that!" 

"I am doing what is necessary." 

Max choked. "They've already asked far more from you than is necessary, Jace." 

Jace didn't respond. She turned her back on Max, moving away from her. "Prepare X5-452 for transport!" Jace commanded, her voice ringing through the room. She cast a glance at Max over her shoulder. "You'll be reminded of your duties soon enough, soldier." 

Max hadn't asked Jace about Zack. A soldier did not admit concerns or ignorance about the situation to their enemy. She had wondered if Zack had managed to evade Manticore, or whether he too had been captured and was being held apart from her. Max hoped that he had made it, but she wasn't about to risk waiting for help that might never arrive. She was nearly certain that Zack would show up eventually, if he were able to do so. If not. . . she would worry about that later. 

The situation was optimal for an escape. Max was still in the cuffs, Jace gripping her upper arm as they moved towards the waiting helicopter. The troops under Jace's command were arranged around them, weapons ready. Even were she to somehow disable Jace while bound, avoiding being hit by Jace's men would be difficult. When had she ever been bothered by the odds before, anyway? she thought as she readied herself for action. Better to go out fighting than allow herself to be docilely led back to Manticore. 

Best to get going before she over-thought the entire situation--Max nearly laughed at that. They had been taught to consider conditions from all angles, to plan out a mode of attack. Max didn't have the patience for careful attention to detail that some of her family had. Jace, Max recalled, had always been by-the-book. She had been methodical, studious, careful. That had given Jace an edge over Max in some of their training exercises, but Max had a more creative fighting style. She could improvise where the unexpected always threw Jace off a fraction--not enough to be damaging against normal opponents, but it was certainly noticeable by other X5s. 

Better yet, Jace's pregnancy had had some impact on her physical abilities. Max could use that to her advantage. She could take out Jace. . . if none of the men shot her first. Better not to think of that. They were fast approaching the helicopter--someone was eager to see her again, Max thought with a twist of her lips. Lydecker would simply have to deal with his disappointment. 

Max managed to take Jace by surprise--Lydecker would be so very disappointed, Max thought, her lip curling as she watched Jace double over. It was awkward fighting while restrained. Max had not been in a situation where such was necessary in a long time. She had slipped in her training, no longer practicing the less straight-forward techniques she had been taught while at Manticore. She was still faster than any of the men Jace had with her. All she had to do-- 

"Max!" Zack's voice caught her attention. 

Max grinned and flung herself towards the helicopter. It always was a pleasure working with Zack--he knew how to make an entrance. 

...~*~... 

Zack hadn't said anything along the lines of "I told you so"--Max would have decked him if he had. He had tersely explained how he had gained control of the helicopter, after which the two X5s had fallen silent, each lost to their own thoughts. They hadn't gone far in the stolen helicopter as they were too exposed in the air. Both of them were more at ease disappearing into the streets below them. 

"I can't believe she could do something like that," Max said through gritted teeth as Zack dabbed at the gash at her thigh. She hadn't been quite as fast as she thought she could be. She had been nicked on her less than graceful lung towards Zack. Max figured that she had been suffering from more injuries in the past several months with Zack than she had in all the years following the escape. "And don't you dare say it," Max warned, holding her fist before Zack's face. 

"I wouldn't dream of it," Zack answered flatly. He rocked back on his heels, absently wiping his blood-stained hands on the thighs of his jeans. Looking over his head, Max could see the first hints of light creeping between the aisles in the store they had broken into. "I shouldn't have agreed to help her," Zack growled, snapping Max's attention back towards him. 

"I thought we weren't playing that game," Max said, eyes narrowing. Fine, she'd started this line of conversation, that didn't mean she wanted to go over how incredibly stupid they had both been about the Jace situation. 

Zack didn't pay any attention. He had risen to his feet, one hand running through his hair. "What I should have done was wring her neck." Zack had turned his back to Max, hands in the pockets of his jeans. His shoulders were stiff, back straight. "I failed him again, Max. I promised Tosh that they wouldn't get away with his death, and she was right _there_, and I got sucked into misdirected sentimentality." 

"Zack. . ." Max breathed. She found her feet, wincing slightly at the pull on the slice in her leg. He never had been one to make promises easily. Max came up beside him, maneuvering so that his arm was draped over her shoulder, her arm around his waist. "I'm sorry," Max said, not quite sure what she was apologizing for. She had believed that offering their help to Jace was the best thing to do--she hadn't believed that any of her family would willingly remain at Manticore. She had wanted to help her sister find the freedom she had been denied for so very many years, to make sure that her niece or nephew didn't grow up as she had. 

"You don't have anything to be sorry about, Max. I didn't have to agree to help Jace." 

"Would you have, if I hadn't been there?" Max asked hesitantly. He had admitted that she was a weakness for him. Had she somehow impacted on Zack's decision? Had her vote in Jace's favour held any sway with Zack, despite his own objections? 

"I don't know," Zack responded after a long pause. He lightly hugged Max's shoulders before pulling away. "How's the leg?" 

"Fine," Max answered. She knew what was coming, and she didn't like it any more than she had the first time. 

"We have to split up for a while, Max. They know our faces now. We can't risk staying together while Manticore is on our tail." 

"I know," Max said. 

Her agreement was met with a tight smile from Zack, relieved that she wasn't being difficult. "We'll give it a few weeks for the hunt to cool down before we hook up again. Just lay low--" 

"I do know how this works, Zack," Max cut him off, mildly irritated. "I did receive the same training as you did." That came off a bit bitchier than she had anticipated, but she wasn't in the mood to be told how to evade Manticore when she damn well knew what to do. Max sighed, rubbing her hand over her eyes. "Forget it, sorry, okay?" 

"Right, fine," Zack answered coolly. 

"Damn it," Max growled. She stalked forward, fingers winding tightly in the hair at the nape of Zack's neck. She pulled at his hair until he winced, rising to her toes to kiss him. She drew back, hand still tangled in his hair. "We aren't fighting now, you get me?" 

"That line might work a bit better if you weren't trying to rip my hair out," Zack said. "We aren't fighting," he repeated once Max sheepishly let her hand slide free from his hair. "I'll see you again soon, Maxie." Zack cupped her cheek, laying a soft kiss against her forehead. "You take care of yourself." 

"I always do." 


	8. Pt. 8 (added 6/3/01)

Untitled

_ Part 8  
June 2, 3, 2001._

It took her a moment to remember--who she was, what had happened, where she was. Panic flooded her system, had been laying in wait before the recognition of her circumstances had come clear to her once more. She jerked with the force of her desperation, lips parting to emit a startled cry of pain as her battered body protested the sudden motion. Max fell back onto the bed, dry lips open as she sucked in shallow breaths of air. Something had reached her through the haze of drugs she had been injected with, meant to soothe and ease her pain. Her system had fought the drugs, but Max still felt slow, her thoughts fuzzy. 

There was a soft hiss of air at her side, above her--an unspoken admonition to remain silent. Fear spiked through Max. Alone, helpless, at the mercy of strangers. Her eyes were sticky where her eyelids met. She forced them open, tilting her head in the direction of the man at her beside. Somber suit, wire-rimed glasses, dark brown hair and Max bit back her cry of distress when her mind assimilated all the information before her. Not a stranger, she recognized. Zack. 

"You son of a bitch," Max slurred past her split lip. The words blurred together, a meaningless groan. She would make sure he understood later. She would knock her anger out against his head, punch that familiar face, grind-- 

"Wait until we get out of here," Zack hissed, and maybe he had understood her anger from the start. His face was set in a carefully neutral expression that told Max she looked like hell. He bent over her, carefully disconnecting the various equipment which had been attached to Max. She had always despised hosptials and doctors and the feelings of helplessness that arose within her while under their command. Her past experiences with doctors was a brutal montage behind her closed eyelids. Max kept her eyes open--reduced to slits due to the swelling--staring at the top of Zack's head. Roots were beginning to show, and Max distantly wondered why Zack had dyed his hair. 

Zack's hand hovered over Max's cheek, not touching her but close enough that she could feel its heat. It was a brief gesture, shocking for some reason that Max couldn't identify. "Let's get you out of here," Zack said softly, arms moving to support her. Max's eyes rolled and her lips tightened with the movement of her body. She clutched at Zack's arm with stiff fingers, burying her head in the curve of his neck to keep from crying out. She imagined that she looked small and weak in Zack's arms, but she didn't give a damn at the moment. She would have looked even more pitiful had she landed in an undignified heap at his feet. 

No one attempted to stop them as they left the hospital. Max figured that Zack must have made arrangements before removing her from her room. Every step he took sent agony unfurling through Max. She bit down on Zack's neck, catching the material of his shirt and skin between her teeth. He grunted softly but made no move to dislodge Max from his neck. If he thought that this would keep him from a serious ass kicking once she was on her feet again, he was definitely mistaken, Max thought viciously. 

"Let's go," Zack commanded. Max reluctantly released her hold on him. There was a car in the parking lot, close to the door they had exited from. Zack drew the rear door open, helping Max into the back seat as carefully as room would permit. He closed the door carefully, trying not to shake the car too much. He made his way to the driver's seat. 

The ride felt like an eternity. Max slid in and out of consciousness, every bump escalating the aches in her body to renewed bursts of pain. She was out again when they arrived at their destination. Max woke in a room she didn't recognize and could not recall being brought into. The bedroom was neat and would have been bright and cheery had the shades not been drawn tightly over the windows across from the bed. The scent of flowers was overwhelming, bordering on nauseating. "Zack?" Max croaked. 

"I'm here, Max," he answered from across the room. Max sought him out, finding Zack in an armchair tucked away in the corner furthest from the bed. He had discarded the glasses and had changed out of the suit he had been wearing in favour of his usual attire. Max was glad for that--they had been apart for long enough that she didn't want her first sight of Zack to be while he was playing at being something else. Zack yawned despite himself, and Max realized that he had been fighting off sleep while awaiting her. He moved towards the bed, carefully lowering himself to the edge beside Max. "How are you?" 

"I've been better," Max said dryly. "Where are we?" 

"Somewhere safe," Zack answered her unhelpfully. 

"You have any idea how strange those words are coming from you?" Max snorted. Her words were still slightly slurred, although far from as bad as previously. "How long have I been out?" she demanded. 

"A few days," Zack replied. "You suffered a lot of damage, Max." 

"I noticed," Max said, closing her eyes against Zack. She counted each breath she took, calming herself. Zack was still there, still and silent as if he hadn't moved at all since Max had last looked at him. Worried, guilty, Max cataloged. "How did you find me?" she asked, a faint line of accusation in the question. 

Zack didn't look away. "Ben called," he answered shortly. 

"Oh?" Max asked. "How interesting, considering that you apparently didn't receive any of my calls for the past several _months_." She didn't want to talk about Ben--not now, not ever. "How could you, Zack?" Max demanded. "I didn't know what happened to you--whether Manticore caught up with you, whether you were still alive." Better anger at Zack than thoughts of Ben and what had occurred between them. 

"I couldn't get in contact with you," Zack defended himself, without much heat. "A situation arose which required my attention." He reached out, smoothing a damp lock of hair away from Max's forehead. "I'm sorry, Maxie." 

She flinched at the name. "I don't want to talk. Go away. Leave me the hell alone," Max growled. She struck out, batting Zack's hand away. "Get out. _Get out!_" She sounded desperate, nearly hysterical even to herself. Her soldier's voice, training and discipline and restraint chided her for her childish display of emotion. And they had never been simply training and discipline and restraint even when they had been soldiers, had they? 

Zack had slipped away while her mind turned on itself. Max blinked at the spot Zack had occupied. He'd left. She had demanded that he do so. And he had left her. Max turned onto her side, curling around her pain. She pressed her face into the nearest pillow and cried. 

...~*~... 

The music was loud, painfully so to Max's enhanced hearing. It took a lot to give an X5 a headache, but Max was well on her way to one. She knew that she looked relaxed to her companions, sprawled out in her chair, top buttons of her blouse undone, a smile easily set upon her lips. Tension crept along her shoulders, hard knots building up towards her neck, pressure in her temples and behind her eyes. Laughter rippled around the table, and Max made sure to add her voice to theirs lest any unwanted attention be directed towards her--she was in no mood to soothe the concerns of her newest friends. 

What should have been weeks of separation from Zack had grown into months. Max well knew how to remain on the move--when she had a goal in mind. Running without direction, without any reasoning save the avoidance of Manticore soon grew wearying. She had settled down once more after a month of careful adherence to Zack's favoured pattern of constant motion. Max had prepared herself for Zack's anger at her decision, had formulated her own angry counter-attacks, but there had as of yet been no opportunity to employ her arguments. She hadn't seen Zack since Jace's betrayal had sent them running. She hadn't even heard from Zack, even though the contact number was still operational. It was infuriating. It was worrying. 

Opal and Robert sat at the end of the table across from Max. She had a clear view of the new couple as Opal moved closer to Robert to nibble at his lip. Max swallowed, closed her eyes, palms pressing over them. Winter sat beside her, careful not to brush against Max or any of their other friends. His narrow hand was wound about the neck of his beer bottle. He had been knocking them back since their group first arrived at the club, and the scent of alcohol was strong around him. He had managed to notice Max's reaction nonetheless. His pale eyebrows lifted in silent inquiry, worried lines forming across his high forehead. 

Max smiled and shook her head--I'm good. She pushed back from the table, waving at her gathered friends before weaving her way through the crowded path towards the door. She paused outside the entrance to the building, raising her face towards the darkened sky. Max shut her eyes, and drew in a deep breath, chasing away the scent of cigarette smoke and beer that lingered around her. 

"Layla!" Winter called out, voice and footsteps loud behind her. Max slowed down slightly, allowing him to catch up with her. She could feel him at her side but kept her eyes fixed forward. Winter was breathing heavily at her side, suffering from too much smoking and not enough exercise. There was a whisper of leather as Winter stuffed his hands into the deep pockets of his coat--Max knew without looking that it hung long and loose around her friend's body, dwarfing his body. He thought the coat made him look tough. No one had the heart to tell him that he looked like a child in a grown-up's clothing. 

Max looked at Winter out of the corner of her eye. He was pale and stretched, as if despite his age he had not yet grown into his body. His narrow lips had nearly disappeared in the thin line into which they had been compressed. Winter had never truly interacted with Max on a personal level--he was polite and friendly, but she had the sense that he didn't feel comfortable with her. Curiosity broke through her dark mood, and Max's voice was gentler than would have been the case even minutes earlier. "What do you want?" Max asked. 

Winter stopped, as if his words took such concentration that he couldn't spare any more on keeping his body in motion. "Do you believe that humans have abilities beyond which we are fully aware?" he began awkwardly. 

"Sure," Max said guardedly, dipping her head slightly in agreement. She had taken several steps without him. Max had turned to fully face Winter when he had first spoken. A street-light flickered behind him, jumping light and shadow. 

Winter drew a cigarette from his coat pockets. He didn't light it, simply rolled the cigarette between his narrow fingers. "I see things," Winter blurted out. 

Max's eyebrows climbed in unison. "See things?" she echoed. "What kind of things?" 

"Secret things," Winter said, low. "Awful things." 

The tension which had slid away during their walk was reclaiming Max's body. "What are you trying to tell me, Winter?" Max asked as mildly as she could manage. 

He swallowed, eyes sliding away from Max's face. "I see woods, a man, children." Light blue eyes sought out her face once more. "A woman dressed in blue, teeth, blood." Max had taken an unconscious step forward, Winter flinching at the movement. "I see you." 

Max took a deep breath, released it slowly. Her hands had curled into fists. She forced them to straighten. "You're crazy," Max said flatly. 

Winter smiled humourlessly. "Sometimes." He wiped damp palms against his jeans. "I feel things, Max. I think you're a good person. And I thought I should tell you to stay out of the woods. Bad things will happen if you follow the hunter into the woods." 

"What hunter? I don't know what you're talking about, Winter!" Max exclaimed, voice rising with fear-tinged frustration. He shouldn't have known about that day, and that he spoke of it now only served to increase Max's previous tension. 

"I don't know. He's your past, your future, not mine. Just stay away from him--you're better off letting him go." Winter sighed, long and wavering. "I just wanted you to know." He turned away from her. "I'm heading back--I need another drink." 

Max ran a hand through her hair. Her breath hissed past her clenched teeth. She had change in her pockets, and there was a pay-phone nearby. It was about time that she made another call to Zack. 

...~*~... 

It was snowing beyond Max's closed window. She had risen that morning, suddenly infuriated by the closed window-shade. It had rattled upwards at her hard tug, slapping against the upper reaches of the window before the shade stilled. Snowflakes were being herded by the wind, a wild swirl that blurred the world beyond her room. Max rested her forehead against the cool glass, hair tumbling forward around her face so that her temporary room was blocked from view. Her breath fogged against the window. 

Everything came back to Manticore in some way or another. Barely a sight, sound, smell or action went without the memory of Manticore and what had not been allowed and what had been demanded of them. The sight of rapidly falling snow twisting helplessly in the wind sent Max tumbling back into the outer reaches of the outdoors area in which they trained. The snow was soft beneath her, and it gave way easily beneath her every step. She sank down to her knees, trudging through the ever increasing amount of snow stretched out before her, leaving a painfully obvious trail in the wake. Snow stuck to her eyelashes, ran down her skull and neck to soak at the neck of her shirt. Snow turned everything foreign, and she could faintly remember Rae who had been lost to snow during a training session. She had continued walking though she no longer knew where she was going, because standing still was to admit defeat. 

Max blinked and turned away from the window and her memories. She had found clothing in the dresser in her room--dressy blouses, t-shirts, skirts, pants, none of which fit her properly. The green t-shirt she wore was too tight across the front, the faded jeans small around the hips and too long. She had been given another woman's room, was hidden in another woman's home. Zack had called this place safe, and with a surge of emotion Max wondered whether the woman who had occupied this place had been involved in the situation which kept Zack from answering her calls. The thought upset her on more levels than Max wanted to address. 

Zack was in the living-room, neatly folding the quilted comforter he had slept beneath. He looked towards Max, gauging her physical and mental state as well as he could without initiating a conversation. Max hadn't responded well to Zack's earlier attempts to discuss what had happed to her and what had kept him from getting in contact with her. She hadn't wanted to hear what he had to say, but she was unreasonably angry that he hadn't continued to try despite her protests. 

He didn't move, didn't attempt to avoid the blow Max swung towards his face. Zack reeled, fell to the floor beneath the sudden weight of Max's body. There was blood at his lower lip. Surprise flared in his eyes as Max leaned forward, sucking his bloodied lip. She bit down, fresh blood welling up. Zack made a sound she had never heard from him before. Bite down hard and pull and she could tear at his lip, and he knew that, could feel anger and darkness pounding through Max's body. Zack jabbed Max in the stomach, pushing her off when she released him, her mouth parted in shock. 

"What the hell are you doing?" Zack snarled. There was more blood at his lip, moving towards his chin. He didn't wipe it away, choosing to leave it as a visible reminder of Max's actions. She could recognize the look in his eyes, and knew that it was taking all the control Zack could muster not to attack her in kind. 

His eyes darkened as Max's tongue ran across her lip. "Why did you stop me?" Max asked with a pointed glance in his direction. 

"Why did I stop you?" Zack echoed incredulously. He stood, not offering his hand to her. "You aren't acting like yourself, Max," he said finally, anger and worry working together to make his voice rough. 

"You liked it," Max said, "you like the blood, the pain." 

"Christ," Zack hissed. He moved away from her, stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "What the fuck did he say to you, Max?" 

"I did. Part of me did." 

Zack went still, tightly holding onto his urge to give into violence. He took a deep breath, and Max wondered how he could avoid gagging on the scent of flowers that filled the house. Zack had shut himself away, locked tight beneath his leader's mask when he spoke again. "I shouldn't have asked you to come with me," he stated. "You obviously can't deal with the stress." 

Max didn't bother to rise. She drew her knees in towards her chest, glaring up at Zack. "I wasn't with you when I ran into Ben," she accused. "Predators. Killers. Soldiers," she echoed, lip curling. "He believed it, all of it. Couldn't forget what happened that day, wouldn't let go of it--that's what we are. You knew, you knew, you bastard!" 

"Pull yourself together, Max." 

"Tell me you didn't know what he was doing," Max insisted. 

"It doesn't matter." 

"It matters! He was killing people, Zack!" Max rose, advancing on Zack's position. "We're supposed to be more than that. We're supposed to be better than that." 

Zack caught her fist before she could connect with his face again. His lips were tight, jaw tense. Wordless, Zack dragged Max towards the bathroom. He pushed her into the small room, his body blocking the doorway. "Clean up, Max," it was an order, distaste hinted at in his voice. "Get your act together or I'm leaving you here--I don't have to time to coddle you and whatever crisis you're going through. We aren't normal, Max, but we aren't monsters either. You aren't like Ben, and what happened then doesn't make you less of a good person now." 

"You knew." 

"I knew." 

"Why?" 

"Ben is family, Max. He needs my help." 

Max hugged herself, looking at Zack from beneath lowered lashes. "It felt good," she said softly. 

"I know," Zack said, and closed the door. 


	9. Pt. 9 (added 7/9/01)

Untitled

_ Part 9  
June 4, 28, July 8 2001. _

Note: Sorry for the long delay and the shortness of his chapter--I've been suffering writer's block. 

Note 2: Does anyone have a suggestion for a new title for this story? L'HB never really did make much sense, and it really won't work if I ever do write Zack's version of these events. 

She hated snow. Her boots hadn't been made for winter-wear, much less trips through snow coated woods. Her heel caught, ice and snow and tree conspiring to unbalance her. Max's foot flew outwards and she landed on her rear, inelegant. She grunted with the impact, snow crumbling beneath her as she moved to rise. She was sliding downwards, a bumpy ride several feet down. She toppled, her attempt to leap to her feet made a joke. Her body impacted anew with the ground, right cheek pressed into the snow. 

Her eyes were wide open, staring. She could see a boot imprint just beyond her face. More beyond that. Max pressed herself to her knees, trailing the footprints with her eyes. She found her feet, rushed forward once more. He couldn't not have heard her less than stealthy landing, no use attempting to come upon him unheard now. Flung her hand outwards, dragging across thick bark as she slid around the tree before her. 

Cool air made her breath visible, rapid bursts of air taking shape against her chapped lips. "Winter!" she cried out, useless emotion because the woods had been no kinder to him than he had said they would be to her. Another name came fast and hard on the lingering sound of the first. "Ben!" She had found the teeth, neatly folded in a man's white handkerchief, offered up to a fragment of their past. Max imagined that she could hear the forcibly removed teeth colliding in the pocket into which she had stored them, shamed by their presence in a place meant to celebrate peace and forgiveness. 

Ben smiled, a flash of white teeth, both greeting and threat. They had never shown their teeth in Manticore, kept them shielded behind their lips unless they meant to express a threat. "Maxie," Ben said, his voice deeper than the image she held of the boy he had been allowed for. She wanted to believe that she heard regret, anguished confusion in his voice. He was calm, a thread of delight running through his tone. Ben had always liked snow, Max remembered, and he was moving at her-- 

The memories had been looping through her mind on constant replay for days. Her confrontation with Zack had not served to banish her fears. The evident distaste with which he had met her actions had shocked Max back into some semblance of rationality. At Manticore, they had been taught not to dwell on past defeats--they were to learn from what they had experienced and move on. As much as Max despised relying on any of the emotional patterns their teachers had attempted to instill in them, she recognized that she had to take a step back from her experiences with Ben before she drove herself into a state worse than that which she was currently suffering. 

Max twisted at the taps, cutting off the spray of hot water under which she had been standing. She stepped out from the tub, reaching for the folded towels on the back of the toilet. Zack had brought them in while she showered, leaving quickly. Max wound the smaller of the two towels around her hair. She rubbed at her body with the second towel, gentling her vigorous rubbing when she came to places that were still tender. Ben hadn't been pulling his punches. Even with her enhanced healing abilities, faint bruises still lingered. 

Max's face tightened at the thought that Ben, too, must still be wearing his bruises. She had been no more gentle with him than he had been with her. It had taken her longer to cast aside restraint, but by the end, she had been facing him with unrestrained fury. Fighting Ben as she had had felt natural. He was part of her family, one of the few people who she felt free to love, and she had still felt satisfaction in injuring him. That wasn't something Max had ever wished to know about her family or herself, and she hated that Zack's absence had forced her to deal with it. 

With a sigh, Max tossed her towels into the laundry basket tucked between the tub and toilet. She wrinkled her nose slightly as she stepped back into her clothes--she hadn't thought to bring fresh ones with her, and in her current mood, she had no wish to dash naked past Zack in search of clothing. Her hair was still damp despite Max having attacked it with her towel. Water was leaving splotches against the back of her t-shirt. Max no longer carried her own scent. The shampoo had been cucumber scented, something Max had never bothered to try. 

Zack was waiting for her in the living-room. He was leaning against the wall next to the window, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes fixed on the street below them. His face was carefully devoid of expression when he turned to look at Max. "Are you ready to listen yet?" he asked, his voice flat. 

Max nearly snapped at him--what right did he have to be angry at _her_? She bit her lip and sucked in a deep breath. "Talk," she said. 

Zack turned so that he faced Max full on. "Brin was captured," he said. 

"Brin," Max breathed. 

Zack ignored Max's reaction. "Shortly after we split up, I received a call from Brin requesting my help. She sounded frantic--terrified. She was sick. Her seizures had become so bad that nothing helped. Her reflexes were becoming dull. Brin was getting slower, weaker. Within the span of a few weeks, she was an old woman," Zack said with difficulty. He rubbed his hand over his eyes. "Manticore caught up to us while I was trying to find someone who could treat Brin." 

Max dropped onto the couch. Her hands were shaking against her knees. "I would have helped." 

"Brin didn't want anyone to know. You remember how proud she is. She couldn't stand the thought of anyone knowing that she was loosing control of her own body." 

"You could have at least called me, let me know that you were okay." 

Zack's lips thinned, and Max knew that he was about to say something he knew wouldn't please her. "I wasn't thinking about you, Max," he admitted. "The Brin situation was tense and hectic and I thought that you could take care of yourself." 

"You didn't think about me?" Max repeated stiffly. 

"You've done the same thing to me plenty of times before, Max," Zack said. "Brin needed all my attention, I wasn't about to let my relationship with you distract me." He spoke over Max's angry reply. "You didn't say anything about needing help. The first I heard of any trouble was when Ben called, going on about you, the Blue Lady and prophets." 

Max sucked in a sharp breath. She fought to calm herself before replying. "Don't think that I'm still not angry--there was any number of ways that you could have let me know how things stood," Max said, as steadily as she could manage. "But right now, that's not important. What are we going to do about Brin? We can't leave her with Manticore--I won't." 

"We won't," Zack answered firmly. "I'm not going to fail again." He was moving, all fluid grace and restrained violence. His expression was nearly terrifying when he stopped before Max. "I'm going in after her, Max. By now, they're sure to have taken care of whatever defect was affecting her. They'll start the reindoctrination process soon. Brin's tough, but she can't stand out against Manticore indefinitely. I'll have to move quickly if I'm to have any chance of getting her back." 

Zack had lowered himself before Max. He peered up at her face. "Can you handle this, Max?" There was no censure in his voice. The question demanded a serious answer from her. "You're good, Max, but you've been through a lot recently. Rescuing Brin is going to call for actions that you may not be comfortable with. If you can't deal with what an assault on Manticore will require, I need to know." 

"You'd never have asked me that before," Max said quietly. She couldn't understand, despite everything, he was still both more and less than she could comprehend. He had admitted that their relationship had impacted upon how he dealt with certain issues, and yet he had left her to fend for herself while she had most needed him. She didn't know whether he was trying to protect her now, or whether he truly thought her incapable of dealing with things. Neither option appealed to her. 

"No," Zack agreed. "But in all our time together, you've been insisting that you're not what I am--that you aren't a soldier, that you aren't a killer. You disobey me, you fight me, Max, and I'm not sure whether you have the kind of hardness getting Brin back will take. I care for you, Max, more than I should--and you've suffered for that. I've let you get away with things that none of the others would." 

Max snorted. "Christ, Zack, you are so full of yourself." 

He shrugged, she wasn't the first person to tell him that. 

"I can handle myself just fine, you condescending ass." 

Zack grabbed Max's chin, holding her still. His eyes searched hers. "People will die, Max. I'm not going to let you head into Manticore unarmed. I can't trust you with this operation if you can't pull the trigger if that is what's necessary." She knew he caught her flinch. 

"Murder has never come to me as easily as it has to you," Max snapped, shaking off his hand. 

"This isn't murder, Max." His hand found its way back to her face, his thumb arching across Max's lip. 'You're right, you know. You should have been normal." Zack stood. 

"But I'm not, and you're not leaving me behind, Zack." 

He nodded once, sharply. "I'll contact the others." 


	10. Pt. 10 (end 7/12/01)

Untitled

_ Part 10  
July 9, 12, 2001.  
Note: Once again, I ask for your forgiveness for the less than professional sounding action parts._

She hadn't understood before this that something within Zack had been missing. Normalcy was something Max strove for. She wanted to be a friend, a sister, a woman, _human_ with all the imperfections that entailed. Zack didn't crave normalcy--he had never held a job for more than a few months at a time, he had no friends beyond the X5s, and all of his interactions with people had been shadowed by his perception of himself as a soldier. Training, instinct and his own personality made Zack ill-suited to what was required of his outside of Manticore. The lack of structure and clear objectives had left Zack uneasy. He needed something to strive towards, some visible marker of success. Escape and evade, while recognized as a valid command decision, was not something Zack could embrace on a long-term basis. 

Max suspected that Zack had been waiting for this moment since they first broke free from Manticore. There was an air of fierce excitement about him as Zack considered strategy and contacted the other X5s. Watching him, Max wondered whether Zack ever regretted escaping Manticore, where his talents would have been appreciated and put to good use. She didn't ask and never would--she wasn't sure that she would care to hear his reply. 

The changes taking place in Zack were having an effect on Max. That part of her which had been bred as a soldier responded to her commanding officer. She had always trusted Zack, but Max had rebelled against his authority--she had defied his orders, had ignored him, had even mocked him--and not always good-naturedly. This was something different. What they were planning her was not something routine which, despite the danger, fleeing Manticore had become. The attack on Manticore called for duty and discipline and Max found herself relating to Zack in a manner in which she hadn't since they had escaped. 

She didn't like it. She didn't like _Zack_ when he was in full C.O. mode. Their relationship had lasted because Max had seen hints of humour in Zack, of vulnerability and caring and passion. He had set all that aside and he was as focused and stripped of emotion as Manticore could have wished. Intellectualy, Max knew that Zack was simply concentrating on a goal, not allowing outside distractions to cloud his ability to plan a successful rescue. She could not help thinking that he dismissed emotional concerns too easily and too thoroughly. 

He had called upon all of them. For the first time since they had escaped Manticore, they were to be fully reunited. Though Zack had not said anything, the fact that he was drawing them all together hinted that he had something broader in mind than rescuing Brin. They had set up in an old mechanic's shop in Wyoming. It made Max's skin crawl knowing that they were so close to Manticore, and judging by Krit and Tinga's faces, she wasn't the only one. 

Syl and Krit had gone to restock their food supply, and Max had noted Krit's hand laying low on Syl's back. She'd arched her eyebrows and caught Jondy's eye. 'Like bunnies,' Jondy had mouthed and grinned widely. Jondy had been one of the last to arrive, and Max had been delighted to know that the connection between them was still as strong as ever. She would have liked to have talked with Jondy, but Zack had been keeping them all busy. The two old friends hadn't been able to get into the in-depth conversations they both looked forward to. 

They paused long enough in their work to devour the boxes of pizza Krit and Syl had brought back. Zack's voice rose over the excited chatter of voices, a barked demand for attention gaining everyone's immediate attention. "We have been running far too long," Zack said, his voice strong and steady. "We left Manticore as children, scared of the world we were entering and knowing only that the world we left behind was one which would destroy us. We've grown up, grown accustomed to the world, but we haven't lost that child's fear of Manticore. We are tough, smart, talented, and it should be Manticore which fears _us_." 

Krit snorted. 

Zack shot a glare in Krit's direction and seemed to deflate a bit. He'd had the tone of a man who had practiced a speech, but his voice had returned to normal when he continued. "They taught us everything we needed to know to overthrow a government," Zack reminded them, "we can use those very skills against Manticore. It's time to stand together and hit back at Manticore--hard. We can make them bleed. We can destroy them." 

Tinga's long fingers were laced, her chin resting on them. She had leaned forward during Zack's speech, her eyes intent. "And how do you propose that we do that? We may be able to inflict some damage on the labs--even take out some of the scientists--but you know as well as I that Manticore's resources are not in a single location. We would be facing other X5s--maybe ever schools higher in the X-series than us." 

Zack held up a hand, and Tinga fell silent. "I'm aware of the difficulties, Tinga. I'm not claiming that this would be a quick or easy process. The DNA labs, the scientists who are behind the X-series, _us_--the survival of any of these elements could help Manticore rebuild. We're going to have to hit Manticore at the top, too. We're going to have to make Manticore so costly that the benefits will no longer be worth the risk. Manticore has had nearly free reign. No one has opposed them, no one has stood in their way. It's about time someone did." 

"This is for real. . ." Syl whispered, her eyes rounding. Her face went hard a moment later, and she no longer looked anything near youthful and innocent. "Let's bring them down, big brother," she said, lips twisting into a snarl. 

"You're with me?" 

"How could you doubt that?" Zane responded. His lips twitched and he shrugged, a silent 'what the hell?' "What's the plan?" 

"The basics are still the same. Tinga has gotten into Manticore's system and has found provided us with blueprints of the base and the schedules for the various X-schools. She'll be here, hooked in and keeping an eye out through surveillance equipment." Syl and Tal were as good with computers as was Tinga, and Max knew he was keeping Tinga out of the way for Case's sake. 

"Max and I will go after Brin while the rest of you hit various targets." He grabbed hold of the blueprints rolled up on the edge of the table and spread them out. Zack unrolled them, and the others leaned forward as he jabbed at the areas they were to destroy. 

"This is crazy." 

"Nah, this is going to be awesome." 

...~*~... 

There were two vans filled with equipment--computers and other communication devices for Tinga, and various forms of weaponry for the other X5s. Zane had a definite gift, Max thought. Though the vehicles were nothing to look at--they were old and utterly normal in appearance--the engines ran smoothly. They sat in silence, tense and readied for action. It was odd working with her family again. There had been so many changes within them--physically, emotionally and mentally--and yet, they had clicked back into a smooth working relationship. The time between this instant and their childhoods seemed to have disappeared and Max felt as if it had been only days ago that she had last ventured out on a training mission with the others. 

The van shuddered to a halt and they poured out. Zack had already fallen back into the silent language they had employed while children. With a quick flick of his hand he broke them into smaller groups. They silently slid into the woods. Branches shook overhead, and Max drew in the heavy scent of the woods after rain. She fought back a rise of memories. Zack had pressed a gun onto her, and it felt dreadfully familiar in Max's hands. She had nearly tossed the weapon aside, stopped only by Zack's unspoken warning. 

Zack was silently, coldly efficient. He hadn't wanted to leave guards at their back, and he hadn't wanted to risk the sound of gunfire being heard. Those guards they encountered died quickly with a twist of Zack's hands against their necks. He didn't go out of his way to kill the guards--just as unwilling for them to be detected because too many of them failed to report their status. Max had the feeling that Zack would not be anywhere near so cautious during their exit. She suspected that he was being literal when he had said he wanted to make Manticore bleed. 

Time and distance had not served to dull Max's memory. Every hallway they passed through on their way towards the infirmary brought up images of their hellish past. It was awful that her strongest memories of some of the people she most loved were tied to such a place. Eva was clearer in the place where she died than she had been anywhere outside Manticore. Max hadn't been able to stop from wincing when Zack's booted foot landed along the edges of what Max remembered to be the spreading pool of Eva's blood. 

There was a doctor with Brin when they finally reached the room in which she was being held. Max moved before Zack. She drew back her fist and smashed it into the doctor's stunned face. The man let out a wet grunt and toppled unconscious to the floor. Zack didn't say anything, for which Max was glad. Bad enough killing guards, she couldn't have stood by and watched him murder an unarmed man. Max walked around the doctor, Zack stepped over him. 

Brin had been strapped down to the bed. The skin was raw and red around her wrists and ankles, showing that she had not taken to being trapped without a struggle. Her dark hair was loose around her, limp and a bit oily from being kept in bed and not being allowed to wash her hair often enough. Her lips were parted, her eyes open and glazed. There was tubbing running along the exposed inside of her arm, a needle sunken into blue veins. Zack growled softly, fingers flying across the restraints. Brin's head lolled towards Max, her eyelids fluttering slightly. 

"God, Brin," Max whispered. Brin had always drawn comfort from physical contact with her family. Max reached out, resting a gentle hand against Brin's cheek. "You'll be okay," she promised. 

She could hear the distant clatter of gunfire. 

So, too, could Zack. "Time to move," he said, lifting Brin's unresisting body into his arms. He jerked his head in the direction of the door and Max followed. 

They stayed close to the walls, moving as quickly as possible. The two X5s slowed as they rounded each new corner, scanning for guards or the few Xs who had not been assigned to duties elsewhere. Max heard Zack hiss. "Behind us," he said, and Max nodded. Max's hand was shaking slightly--so little than a normal human wouldn't have noticed. "Take Brin," Zack ordered, shifting the woman in his arms. 

Though Max was strong, their similar height and body weight wouldn't allow her to carry Brin as had Zack. She ended up supporting most of Brin's weight against her side, her sister's arm draped over her shoulder. Brin's drug haze was beginning to clear. Her eyes were somewhat sharper and she was managing to hold herself upright better. Her mind was still fuzzy, but Brin stiffened against Max as bullets whizzed past them. 

"We aren't too far from our exit point. Help Brin. I'll cover you," Zack said. His punctuated his orders with a return volley of fire in the direction of their pursuers. "Move!" Zack snapped before firing again. 

"C'mon sis," Max said urgently, half-pulling and half-carrying Brin along with her. The entire hall shook, sending Max stumbling forward several steps. The lab had blown. One down. . . another blast sounded. "We're really going to do this," Max said. She could see the door ahead. Bodies were already littering the floor--one or more of the others had already passed this way. The floor was slick and Brin's weight threw off Max's balance. She managed not to fall. 

Zane was at the door. He swooped Brin into his arms. "Run!" he shouted. 

"Zack!" Max shrieked. 

Zack had come into sight. Max could see the blood spreading out from the wound at his shoulder. His arm was dangling uselessly, and he had been forced to move his weapon to his other hand. He caught sight of them. "Go!" he screamed and fell as the next bullet caught him in the thigh. "Now!" he screamed again, rolling over onto his back, weapon in hand. He scooted against the wall, aiming his weapon down the hall. 

"Max," Zane said. "Max!" 

They ran. 

...~*~... 

"Max. . ." 

"He's not dead," Max said. She rolled over on the bed, lifting herself on her elbows to look at Jondy. "He's not." 

"Maybe not. I hope you're right," Jondy said softly, her eyes wet. Jondy had never been a graceful crier--she looked like hell. She moved slowly into the room, as if worried what Max would do if she acted too quickly. The mattress dipped slightly as she sat on the bed next to Max. "If he is, we'll get him back. And if he isn't--" she looked away when Max started, "--we'll keep on going. He was right, we can't live like this." 

"I never told him," Max admitted. 

"That he was right? Zack had a pretty solid sense of his own--" 

Max waved her off. "Not that. I do. . . love him, you know?" 

"Oh," Jondy said slowly. "He must have known. I saw the two of you together, you didn't have to tell me something was there." 

"Since when have any of us been observant about our emotions?" Max said. "He told me, you know. I didn't answer. And I was so angry at him. . . He's not dead." 

"No," Jondy said, "no, he isn't." 

"We'll get him back." 

"Of course." 

Max curled around Jondy and cried. 

**~end~**

(yes, there is possibly a sequel. In case I don't get around to it soon enough--no, he isn't dead). 


End file.
